Taking a Chance
by theicemenace
Summary: On the day of the Chitauri invasion, Natasha experienced real fear for the first time in her life when the Hulk chased her through the helicarrier, intent on ending her life. To help her get over the fear, Bruce decides they need shared experiences that didn't include fighting a war. Rating it T for later chapters just in case.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** One more post-_The Avengers,_ pre-_Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ fic. This one is about Bruce and Natasha building a friendship after she's chased and nearly killed by the Other Guy.

Let me know what you think.

Many thanks to ladygris for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 1**

"_You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You wanna know how I stay calm?" Teeth clenched and his body stiff with resentment, Bruce Banner bit out the words. Without taking her eyes off him, Natasha unsnapped the guard over her weapon at the same time as Fury, both thinking the same thing and knowing it would be futile._

"_Dr. Banner, put down the scepter." Steve's quiet voice was almost a whisper as he emphasized each word._

_Looking down, Bruce blinked. When had he picked up Loki's scepter? All around him, the team tensed, picking up on the readiness that Natasha and Fury both felt._ _The computer beeped to indicate the sweep for the Tesseract was complete and that seemed to pierce the tension without alleviating it completely. Bruce laid the scepter on the counter. "Sorry, kids. You don't get to see my party trick after all."_

_He went to the console while Steve and Tony again argued. Thor's voice was in there as well, stating his case for the Tesseract to be returned to Asgard. Bruce took off his glasses, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Oh, my God!"_

~~O~~

_Before Bruce could explain, the world around Natasha exploded. The floor opened up and Natasha felt herself falling.__ She hit the deck one level down forcing a grunt out of her as well as Bruce. He lay just a few feet away face down on the deck. From what she could see, they were both bruised and battered, but not seriously hurt though her foot was pinned under debris._

_Bruce groaned. A deep down moan of pain so great that there were no words to describe it. "Dr. Banner…Bruce, you gotta fight it. This is just what Loki wants."_

_A pair of medics approached at a trot, "You hurt?"_

_She waved them away and they quickly left the area. To Bruce, she said, "We're gonna be okay. Listen to me. We're gonna be okay, right? I swear on my __life__ I will get you out of this! You will walk away and never…"_

"_Your life?!" Bruce turned toward her, his skin taking on a sickly green hue, the muscles under his clothes increasing in size, tearing the cloth as if it were nothing. He pushed to his hands and knees then to his feet, stumbling sideways to fall against some equipment. Horrified, she watched him transform from a mild mannered scientist with a charmingly soft-spoken voice and a kind smile into a giant hulking green monster. _

"_Bruce?"_

_Natasha gave one last hard pull, her foot came free and she got to her feet. The Other Guy saw her, his primitive brain settling on her as the source of his pain. He gave chase. She lost him for a while, but he found her again. And as he raised his hand to strike her, Thor came to her rescue with a flying tackle that pushed them through the bulkheads and into the maintenance hangar._

_More scared than at any other time in her life, Natasha sat in a corner, knees pulled to her chest, shaking like a leaf. She tried to move, to stand and get back to work, but she couldn't. Couldn't move, couldn't think as her mind shrank away from the vision of what might have happened._

Natasha shot to a sitting position, her eyes frantically searching the darkened bedroom and finding herself alone just as always. And just like all other times the nightmare had come to her, the events that followed flooded her mind.

_Through her headset, Fury's voice echoed, "_It's Barton. He took out our systems. He's headed for the detention level. Does anybody copy?_"_

_Her best friend and occasional partner had attacked the boat on Loki's orders. She was in a position to get him back and that knowledge provided the motivation she needed. "This is Agent Romanoff. I copy."_

Tossing the sheet aside, Natasha padded over to the window pushing back the hair that stuck to the perspiration on her face. It was down to her shoulders now, fluffing out in waves when it wasn't wet. Maybe what she needed was a new style, a new color…a new job.

She didn't want to let on that she wasn't sleeping well or Fury would send her to therapy for the nightmares. Or maybe not. Semi-annual psych evals were SOP with SHIELD, though the majority of SHIELD agents were trained to fool others, and she was better at faking sanity than anyone, except maybe Clint.

Usually, she worked these things out through a combination of meditation, hard work and intense physical activity. But it wasn't helping this time, and she knew the reason was because every day she was confronted with the source of that irrational fear.

Turning away from the window, she snorted. The fear _wasn't_ irrational. It was quite real. Natasha had faced her mortality on more than one occasion in her life, but the day the Other Guy chased her through the helicarrier it had seemed like she really would die. Her death would come at the hands of someone she barely knew though she'd sensed that they could be good friends, given the right circumstances.

At heart, Bruce was kind, soft-spoken, generous, compassionate, and giving. He could also be very loving if given the chance. Bruce had tended to the sick and injured in Calcutta with very little chance of being paid for his services. And when he was paid, often payment would be in the form of a meal or a place to sleep for a night or a week. What little money he was paid went to cover the cost of medical supplies.

When she found him, his clothes were worn and he hadn't eaten in over a day. In the U.S., he would've been looked down on for his condition when people should've been looking up to him for the things he'd done. Natasha admired Bruce for his convictions and unwillingness to compromise his principles, which were diametrically opposed to her own. On a good day she lied a minimum of five to ten times, and that was to her friends and colleagues. She didn't even want to think about strangers and marks. Not that she was keeping count, but each lie added more red to her ledger until it was so full that there was no way to wipe it all out.

_Your ledger is dripping, it's __gushing__ red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer. Pathetic! You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they are a part of you, and they will __never__go__away__!_

On that point, Natasha agreed with Loki. Many times she'd wanted to quit. To just leave this life and fashion one for herself that was simpler, away from everything she'd come to know. Yet each day she stayed brought with it not only the horrors that Loki cited, but another chance to wipe out some of that red. And as long as the possibility existed, she would stay where she was needed. She just wished that Fury had given her a different assignment, any assignment that took her away from the source of her fear. But he hadn't, so she stayed on as the agent assigned to watch over Bruce when he was on the helicarrier, the SHIELD compound or the labs at Stark Industries in the same way that Clint had been watching over Selvig and his work on the Tesseract. Sometimes, the irony of one person on SHIELD's watch list keeping an eye on another made her laugh.

_Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?_ Who will guard the guards themselves?

If they were watching each other and knew they were being watched by someone being watched…

Shaking loose that thought, Natasha changed into her workout clothes and went down to the gym. After a good long stretch, she stuck earbuds in, and got on the treadmill. An hour later, she felt someone come in and get on the stationary bike to her left, setting a moderate speed. Keeping her eyes focused on the window to deter conversation, she started slowing down until she reached walking speed for her cool down.

Removing the headphones and tucking the iPod into her pocket, Natasha stretched her hamstrings and calves. As she headed for the door, a voice floated over to her, echoing slightly in the huge room, "Don't leave on my account, Agent Romanoff."

She put a bland expression that was neither inviting nor forbidding in place, glancing over her shoulder. "I'm not, Dr. Banner. I've finished my workout."

"Bull."

Peeved at being called a liar when she'd told the truth, Natasha leveled an annoyed glare at him. "Sorry?"

"This is a replay of our conversation in Calcutta, _Natasha_. You lied and I called you on it. The difference now is that you didn't pull a gun on me."

"Maybe I'm not lying. I'm also not in the habit of bringing weapons to the gym."

"From what I've heard, in your hands, anything can be a weapon." Bruce tossed the towel over his shoulder, and popped the top on his water bottle. After a good, long drink during which his eyes never left hers, he took a step closer and Natasha just managed not to step back to keep the distance between them. He had to have seen something in her expression because he gave her a sad half-smile. "I've been dealing with people's reactions to the Other Guy for a while now. I know when someone's afraid of me."

She returned the smile with one of her own. "Don't forget who you're talking to, Doctor. _Nothing_ scares me."

Again, Bruce moved closer. Just a half-step, but it was enough. "Then why do I see fear in your eyes whenever I get within arm's reach? Granted, it's hardly noticeable, but then I see things other people don't."

Drawing herself up to her full height, Natasha drilled him with a look that had put the fear of God into more than a few men, though Bruce seemed to find it highly amusing. "You're imagining things, Dr. Banner. This conversation is _over_. I'll see you in the lab in one hour."

Turning on her heel, she again headed for the exit, coming to a stop when he said, "The lies we tell others are nothing compared to the lies we tell ourselves."

Still annoyed, she faced him again. "Excuse me?"

"The only thing self-deception will get you, Agent Romanoff, is an ulcer."

Without responding, Natasha slipped between the hanging bags and didn't stop moving until she reached her quarters. In a rare moment of frustration, she kicked out at the chair in the corner. Feeling somewhat better, she went to get showered.

~~O~~

Watching Natasha dart from the gym, Bruce shook his head and went back to the bike, checking the heart monitor he wore on his wrist, relieved to find it still below one hundred even after his disagreement with Natasha. Meditation techniques he learned while in Rocinha, Rio de Janeiro helped him keep a firm hand on his anger most of the time, though they were less effective now than in the beginning. In their first meeting, Bruce had pretended to be enraged at Natasha just to see what she would do. And yes, it _was _mean, but it also provided him with information Natasha had been unwilling to give freely. Actions sometimes spoke louder than words.

From the way she'd dressed at that first meeting, she had hoped to use her feminine wiles to get him to comply, changing tactics when it didn't work. It wasn't _her_ fault that he'd long ago taken at least partial control of his body's reactions to beautiful women. Bruce still appreciated the magnificence of the female form in all its configurations while mitigating involuntary responses that might cause the appearance of the Other Guy.

There had to be a way for them to get past this hurdle, past the instinctive fear response she around him because it was causing tension for both of them. One thing he could try would be to have a look at her personal history though he doubted that even SHIELD knew everything. Any gaps, he would have to convince Natasha to fill in herself, if that was possible. She wasn't much for sharing unless she got something in return.

What they needed was shared experiences that were more ordinary, that had nothing to do with the lab, third world countries or alien invasions. On the way back to his quarters, Bruce started making a list of things he hadn't done in a long time for one reason or another as well as things he'd never done and had always wanted to try. They could start small and build up to something big. They made a small inroad today while she was running and he was on the bike even if she didn't know it at the time. Hopefully one day, they could actually be in the room together without the mistrust.

After his shower, Bruce stood in front of the mirror running a hand through his wet, shaggy hair. "I need a haircut."

From the closet he took a pair of jeans, a plain white T-shirt and boots. After dressing, he used a comb to tame his hair as much as possible. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days and liked it that way for what he had planned. Shoving his wallet into a back pocket and his phone into another, he left his quarters and headed for the lab. Natasha was already there standing in front of the window staring at the water. He went to stand beside her though not too near, hands in his pockets, waiting for her to initiate conversation.

"Shouldn't you be working instead of daydreaming, Doctor?"

Keeping his voice calm and upbeat, he shrugged. "I've decided to take the day and do something that's not work. The SHIELD version of senior skip day."

The term didn't confuse her as much as hearing him use it. "Such as?"

Again he shrugged. "Start with a haircut then make it up from there. Just take time to relax without having to adhere to a time schedule."

"You're not permitted to leave the compound without an escort. I'll assign a bodyguard."

As though the thought just occurred to him, Bruce caught and held her eyes in their reflections on the glass. "That would draw way more attention than we want or need. When was the last time _you_ had a day off?"

"Three weeks ago. I spent the day in meetings with Fury and Hill."

"I meant a day where you did anything you wanted. Read a book, walked in the park, took a nap."

Natasha scoffed. "I never nap, and I'm too busy to sit and read unless it's for a mission."

"Let's take the day. You and me. No worries. No timetable. No bosses looking over our shoulders. What d'you say?"

She was silent for a for so long Bruce thought she would decline then, she said, "Okay." At the door, she turned puzzled that he hadn't followed. "Coming, Doctor?"

Bruce's lips turned up in a grin, indicating the skin hugging cat suit she wore. "If we're going out in public, you might wanna change."

Nodding, Natasha let a slow smile appear. "I'll meet you downstairs."

"I'll check out a vehicle while I'm waiting."

Ten minutes later, Natasha joined Bruce outside SHIELD's motor pool. She too was dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt, and boots, but that's where the similarity to his clothing ended. The faded denim fitted over the lower half of her body as if it had been designed with her in mind, the legs tucked into the tops of her black leather boots. While plain, the white top molded itself over her curves emphasizing her assets. If they wanted to be inconspicuous, this might not do it. But Bruce wasn't complaining. Warily, she looked from their transportation to him and back. "You _really_ wanna do this?"

Nodding emphatically, Bruce pulled on his leather jacket, flipped the collar down and zipped the front. "I do."

For the first time since she'd been given the assignment to watch over him, Natasha smiled as she took the keys. "Then I'm driving."

Natasha put on her leather jacket and gloves, swung her leg over the 70s style Harley Low Rider and used her left heel to raise the kickstand. She started the engine, and he climbed on behind her. There was no sissy bar so he would have to hold onto her to keep from falling off. The moment Bruce touched her, she stiffened, but he refused to let go. They had to get to a point where they were comfortable with each other, and if that meant casual touching, so be it. Neither of them had much fun or simple companionship in their lives, before or after New York. He and Stark were amenable while working, but it wasn't the same as being true friends, and Bruce hoped this would be the start for Natasha and him.

The Harley surged forward, and Bruce clamped his hands tighter on Natasha's waist. Over her shoulder she asked, "Where to, Doc?"

"With hair like this, any barber shop will do."

"You may be sorry you said that."

Bruce heard the humor in her voice and responded to it. "Then let's get to it, Tasha."

They rode through the compound and out the gate, turning onto the main road into town. "Coulson's the only person to ever call me Tasha."

"Want me to stop?"

"No. The memories are good ones, Doc."

Careful to keep his hands still, Bruce leaned a little closer so he wouldn't have to shout. "Good. Please call me Bruce instead of Doc or Doctor, since we're taking the day off."

"Of course, Bruce."

Somehow, she still made it sound like a title, not as if they were friends, and that had to change if she was going to get over her fear of the Other Guy.

A short ride later, she pulled to a stop in front of an old fashioned barber shop. While he had his hair cut, she paced in front of the window like a cat in a cage, her movements fluid and elegant, drawing the attention of the men inside as well as those passing by. When they stopped to stare, she would glare at them and they'd quickly move on.

They emerged into the sunshine still tinged with the chill of early spring. Squinting in the bright light, Bruce looked around at the people coming and going with no idea that two of the heroes of the alien invasion were among them. In an aside, Bruce whispered, "You might want to dial back the Black Widow just a bit, Tasha."

"What do you mean?"

"Your body language screams 'bodyguard'. Stop glaring at everyone who comes near and just _be_. No one will fault you for taking a day for yourself. And if they do, tell them to come talk to me." Again, she gave him a long, intense stare then reluctantly nodded. Her stiff posture relaxed some, but not enough. "Let's take a stroll."

Bruce chose a direction at random and started walking. As they passed an ice cream shop, he said, "I'm getting a cone. Want one?"

"I'm good."

"I know you are. So what are you having?"

For one of the few times since they'd met, she looked embarrassed. "I haven't had ice cream since I was a child."

Bruce opened the door, ushered her in and stepped up to the counter. "Two Cookies Dough waffle cones, please."

A few minutes later, they were seated on a bench in the park enjoying the sun dappled shade and watching the ducks swim in the pond. Though she was more relaxed now than when they first left the compound she still held herself stiffly, her eyes darting everywhere. Bruce wasn't sure how to change that. Instinct told him just to keep doing what he was doing and eventually she'd find her own path.

Last night, Bruce had read her file, which was sadly lacking in details about her life before she became known as the Black Widow. He knew that she hadn't had a normal childhood, but then neither had he. His father had been placed in a mental institution after killing Bruce's mother, Edith. As an adult, Bruce regained his repressed memories of that time, and though he still had unresoved issues with his father, he was able to think about that time without the anger he'd harbored well into his twenties. While in foster care, Bruce had been treated differently because of his father. He hadn't done many of the things that kids normally do. He hadn't played Little League, visited a theme park, played board games with other kids or thrown a Frisbee around just for the heck of it. Bringing more fun into Natasha's life would also allow him to experience those things for himself.

He finished his ice cream, rolled the napkin into a ball and turned sideways in the seat to watch Natasha. She nibbled at the cold treat tentatively, as if she didn't think she'd like it, showing surprise that she actually did enjoy it. Sensing that he was watching her, she turned and smiled.

Bruce returned the smile and pointed. "You have a little…"

She swiped at her cheek with a napkin. "Did I get it?"

He took the napkin and scooted closer. Holding her head still with one hand, he wiped the smear off and handed the napkin back. "There."

"Thanks."

Slumping down in his seat, Bruce rested both elbows on the back of the bench and took a deep breath of the cool air. "What should we do next?"

Shrugging, Natasha popped the last of the cone into her mouth and chewed, talking around the food, "What do _you_ want to do?"

Bruce dropped the napkin into the trash and waited for her to do the same. "There's one thing I haven't done in a very long time. Most because the other kids were mean."

"Oh?"

"Remember we're in public, and no cheating."

"I'm a spy, Bruce. Cheating is a way of life." Her eyebrows knitted together over her nose in puzzlement at his smirk. "Okay, but why is it even an issue?"

Bruce took off his jacket and tied it around his waist. "Because I'm going to do this." He tapped her on the shoulder. "You're it!"

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 2**

Bruce tapped Natasha on the shoulder, shouted, "You're it!" and took off running. Stunned at the strange turn of events, she watched him sprint through the grass toward the pond without checking to see if she was following. She hadn't thought that two such innocuous words could sound like a challenge, but they did, and Natasha could never resist a challenge.

She whipped off her jacket, tied it around her waist and raced after Bruce. Did no cheating mean she couldn't use her free-running skills? Bruce made a sudden turn, hopped a low wrought iron fence landing on the other side with ease, crossed the red brick sidewalk and used another bench to leap the fence on that side, cutting between two teenage girls playing on their mini tablets. "Excuse me, ladies."

The girls barely looked up, not even when Natasha followed in his footsteps. He ran toward a stand of trees close to the brush away from the pond, darted to the right and seemed to disappear. Coming to a stop, her eyes swept the area seeing no indication of where he'd gone. Slowly approaching the trees, she tilted her head to the side listening and could hear him breathing in a rhythm designed to bring his heart rate down.

A bush moved. Not much, but enough. He was close by and coming this way. Pursing her lips, Natasha ducked into a hiding place, lying in wait. His hearing wasn't as acute as hers so she didn't worry that he might have heard her.

Natasha watched and waited as Bruce slowly tiptoed past. She counted to five then jumped from where she was hiding in a tree, landing behind him. "You're it!" she said as she tapped him on the shoulder.

Bruce spun around and gave chase. "That's cheating!"

Natasha easily outdistanced him, pulling out in front and making a sharp turn around the bathrooms, losing sight of Bruce. When he didn't come around the corner, she slowed to a stop, her eyes sweeping the area, not seeing a trace of Bruce. It was her duty was to protect him and she'd let herself get caught up in a children's game. She reached for her phone, but the gesture went uncompleted when Bruce tapped her on the shoulder and said, "You're it again!"

Turning quickly, she gave chase once more.

The game went on like that for a while. At one point, Bruce had tackled her to the ground. They rolled around in the grass holding onto each other and laughing. Then, he got to his feet with a grunt, extending a hand to help her up. Pushing the hair out of her face, Natasha looked over Bruce's shoulder, her eyebrows meeting over her nose in confusion. He turned to see what she was looking at and that's when she made her move. "You're it!"

"Hey!" he shouted indignantly.

She ran across an open field, turning to look over her shoulder, and again he wasn't following. Instead, he was bent at the waist, hands on his knees and breathing hard.

Deciding to let him off the hook, Natasha returned to his side, following him over under a huge tree. He flopped down in the grass with his back against the rough bark and she joined him leaving a space between them. Leaning back with one knee raised, his right arm propped on it, Bruce looked at her sideways and smiled. "Should've thought about bringing water."

"I'll get you one."

"It's fine. Just let me rest a while."

They sat quietly for a while and soon Natasha started noticing things that she only paid attention to as part of an assumed persona. Birds flying overhead, calling to each other, the gentle lapping of the water on the shore, children running and laughing at play, the barking of dogs coming from the area set aside for pets and their owners. Straight ahead, groups of teens tossed a Frisbee and a football. Women of varying ages powerwalked, alongside the runners while here and there, men and women sat on benches or under trees alone or in groups while they studied or read. A few had hats or scarves over their eyes taking a nap. There were even a few couples holding hands and walking, stopping for pretzels, hot dogs, falafels, muffins and more.

And the scents. Flowers were starting to bloom, and trees that had been bare all winter were nearly covered in bright new leaves. Natasha could smell the loamy soil rich with freshly laid fertilizer, hear the buzz of insects, and squirrels scampering through the branches, marveling at the pleasure that people seemed to take in simple, everyday activities. Off to the left, a mother was feeding her baby, the child cradled in her arms and looking up at her with wide eyes. Natasha turned away, bringing her knees up and resting her arms on them. She closed her eyes and lay her head down.

~~O~~

Sitting in the grass breathing in air that hadn't been recycled who knew how many times, Bruce let the little nagging worries fade away. He made the decision then and there to take one day a week off to do something he hadn't done in a while and to take Natasha with him.

He was about to ask if she was ready to go when a soft snore told him she'd dozed off. It surprised him because he didn't think she would allow herself to be that vulnerable with him _or_ in public. Even if it was only a light doze, at least it was a step in the right direction. Maybe one day she'd learn to trust enough to let herself be true friends with someone other than Barton. Then she'd have someone to whom she could tell secrets about herself that no one else knew. In his head, Bruce could still hear the recording of the talk she'd had with Loki.

_Can you wipe out that much red? Drakov's daughter, Sao Paulo, the hospital fire? Barton told me everything._

The mention of these incidents and look on her face when Loki cruelly stated that he'd have the hypnotized Barton kill her in the way she feared the most wasn't contrived, though she'd convinced the demi-god otherwise. But even someone like Natasha could keep up a front for only so long before the dam broke. Bruce felt guilt for being the one to open the gates, even though it had been Loki's schemes that had caused the Other Guy to come out.

"Heads up!" a voice called out as a Frisbee sailed through the air toward Natasha's head.

Bruce reached out to bat it away before it could hit her, startled when Natasha's left hand came up and caught it. Three college age boys wearing T-shirts pronouncing their enrollment in a prestigious university came running. Natasha flung the circle of plastic, stretched her legs out in front and leaned against the tree watching them play. At one point, the dark-haired boy sailed the Frisbee high in the air. A sudden gust of wind knocked into the tree above Natasha and Bruce's heads. Natasha quickly climbed up to get it, landing on the ground with ease.

The boys ran toward them, amazed at her agility. The one with blonde hair exclaimed, "Yo! That was _sick!_ You got some wicked moves there, babe."

Bruce didn't like the boy's tone. "Her name's not _babe_, pal. You owe the lady an apology."

The young man took a step back, looking from Bruce to Natasha and back. "Whoa, dude. Chill. Didn't mean nothin' by it."

Natasha touched him on the arm. "No harm done. They won't be making the same mistake in the future." She turned a mild version of her death glare on the boys. "Right?"

"Uh, no, ma'am. Can we have our Frisbee back?"

Rather than flinging it, she forced the boy to come to her and take it, which he did reluctantly. With a sly grin, he asked, "Wanna join us?"

Natasha got to her feet, looking down at him questioningly, "Bruce?"

He tapped the heart monitor on his left wrist. "I'm gonna sit this one out."

In Natasha's eyes Bruce could see she understood what he couldn't say.

The young man with short black hair grinned. "Cool. I'm Travis," he pointed over his shoulder, "Dillon and Corbin."

Natasha acknowledged each boy with a nod. "Natasha."

Just for a moment, Bruce felt sorry for the boys who were about to get served their backsides by the Black Widow and didn't even know it. And while everyone had a basic grasp of the game, Bruce knew that if she'd played at all it had been as part of a persona adopted for a mission. But today, she was playing for herself.

From his seat under the tree, Bruce watched her run, jump, fling, and catch the plastic disc. To their credit, the boys made it as difficult as possible without considering who they were up against. And Bruce didn't blame them for not recognizing Natasha. Her hair had grown out since the battle over Manhattan. Not only that, but all of the Avengers, except for Stark, were keeping a relatively low profile. Because of it, Bruce didn't travel by commercial airlines when he had to go out of the country. Either SHIELD did the honors, or Stark offered him a lift in one of his private jets.

A shout of "What the ****?" from one of the boys set Bruce's alarms jangling. He sprang to his feet and jogged over to where Travis, Dillon and Corbin were staring transfixed as Natasha slid across the hood of a parked car, snatched the Frisbee from the middle of the street, pinwheeled over a moving taxi, swerved to miss a hot dog cart and ended up on the opposite side of the street with the Frisbee in hand.

Natasha jogged back to the park, dodging traffic, toddlers, joggers and dogs to join them again. Dillon, the blonde, exclaimed, "Whoa! _That_ was sick!"

Corbin echoed the sentiment. "Are you like one of those free-runners or something?"

Pursing her lips to keep from smirking, Natasha passed the Frisbee to Travis. "Or something. I'm done for the day, fellas. Maybe we can do it again."

"That'd be cool. Me 'n the guys are here most days at lunchtime." Travis gave Natasha a wave with the hand holding the Frisbee and took off with his friends.

Bruce watched their retreating forms until Natasha sighed and said, "I'm torn."

"Oh?"

"Between disappointment in the educational system, and annoyance that I missed a teaching opportunity."

Bruce looked at her sideways, chuckling. He extended his elbow. "How about a walk around the pond?"

For an answer, Natasha clasped her fingers around the bend of Bruce's arm. After a short time, she released him and he shoved his hands into his pockets. They'd made one complete circuit and had started on a second before Bruce spoke. "Did you have any pets when you were a child?"

He felt puzzlement rolling off of her in a gentle wave. "Pets?"

"Dog, cat, gerbil, hamster, iguana, skunk, unicorn."

She kept her features neutral though her eyes sparkled with humor. "No. I wanted a dog, but my father barely made enough to keep fed and roof over our heads."

"You have siblings?"

Some of the humor in her eyes dimmed. Crossing her arms, Natasha looked off into the distance. "No. My parents were killed in a fire just before I was to start school. I was placed in an orphanage then taken to the Red Room facility."

"What about now? Money's not an issue, surely."

"I travel so much it would be cruel to leave the animal in a kennel all the time." She turned to look at him. "What about you?"

Bruce kicked a plastic bottle someone had thrown on the ground and kept kicking it, shaking his head. "Never had a pet either. When I was a child, I was allergic to cats and dogs. After the accident, I was no longer allergic, but…" he shrugged, not wanting to dampen the enjoyment of their day off with tales of his pathetic childhood and the accident that turned him into the Other Guy. "You've read my file. Not much I could add to it."

Natasha picked the bottle up and tossed in the green recycle bin as they passed. "Your file doesn't tell the entire story. If you want to talk, I'm willing to listen."

He stopped and they faced each other. "Let's leave misery for a day when the sun's not shining."

The sad smile Natasha flashed at him was sympathetic and understanding. Batting her eyes, she turned the smile flirtatious and enormously overplayed, saying in a French accent, "Perhaps when we're having dinner at a sidewalk café in Paris, _oui?_"

Chuckling, he responded in French as well, "_Oui_. It must also be raining, mademoiselle."

"But of course, _mon chère_. And remember, never an umbrella in Paris." Since the helicarrier, Natasha hadn't touched him unless it was unavoidable, releasing him quickly. Now, she actually laughed and tucked her hand into the bend of his elbow to start them walking again.

~~O~~

In silent agreement, Natasha and Bruce left the trail that encircled the pond, headed for the Java Hut. They hadn't gone far when a woman screamed. Natasha's eyes swept the park, pointing. "There!"

A woman was holding a small child and crying. "Help! He's not breathing!"

Together, Bruce and Natasha rushed to the woman's side, pushing their way through the crowd that had already gathered. Several people were already on the phone. Hopefully calling 9-1-1.

Natasha stood out of the way as Bruce knelt next to the woman, taking the child and doing a quick examination. "I'm a doctor. What happened?"

"I-I don't know. I was reading and he was playing with his toys, a-and suddenly…"

Not knowing what else to do, Natasha knelt at the edge of the blanket spread in the grass. Children's toys were spilled out of a canvas bag that had zoo animals all over it. Next to it sat another bag with food and drinks, all organic from what she could see of the packaging.

Still in that same gentle voice, Bruce asked question after question, the mother answered as best she could. "What did he eat? Could he have ingested something in the grass? Is he allergic to anything? Is he on medication? Diabetic? Allergies?"

The boy couldn't have been more than eighteen months old, and contrary to what the mother said, the boy was breathing, his chest making a horrible wheezing noise. Bruce removed everything but the boy's diaper, checking every inch of his skin. Eventually he found a bright red spot with a black dot in the middle. "He's been stung by a bee." To the Natasha, he said, "I need an auto injector."

Feeling helpless, Natasha got to her feet, raising her voice to be heard. "We need an auto injector! Now!" More and more people were wandering over to see what the excitement was. "Does anyone have an auto injector?"

A man in his thirties waved. "I do!"

Pushing her way through the crowd, Natasha snatched it from his hand and returned to Bruce's side. He seized it in one hand, taking off the cap with the other and removed the blue safety release. With his left hand, Bruce jammed the orange tip against the boy's thigh and pressed until there was a click. Natasha knew that the full 0.3 mg was delivered in ten seconds, but that was an adult's dose. A child's dose was half that. After five seconds, he pulled the needle out and handed her the injector. Very shortly, the child's breathing became less labored. "Where's the nearest hospital?"

Sirens announced the arrival of first responders. The mother ran alongside and Bruce carried the child to the paramedics, spouting several mouthfuls of medical jargon and handing over the injector. Natasha followed with the woman's belongings, setting them on the bench inside the ambulance then stepping back out of the way.

"…Here's my number. If the ER doctor has any questions, have him or her give me a call."

The paramedics nodded as they placed the boy on the stretcher and helped the mother in. Natasha closed the door and banged twice to signal they were good to go. The vehicle pulled into traffic and was soon lost to sight. Bruce stood there watching long after it had gone, lost in thought.

"He gonna be okay?" Natasha asked once the crowd had dispersed.

"What? Oh, yeah. The doctor will keep him overnight at least and probably recommend allergy testing and his mom will have to carry auto injectors everywhere they go in case it happens again, but he should be fine. "

Natasha closed her fingers around Bruce's hand. "That was amazing."

Bruce shrugged off the mild praise while giving their entwined hands a puzzled glance though he didn't say anything about it. "Piece of cake."

Tilting her head to the side and smiling, she said, "Dr. Banner, could I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"I would be delighted, Ms. Romanoff."

~~O~~

A person's state of mind was influenced by any number of physical, emotional and environmental factors. Natasha was more relaxed now than this morning when Bruce confronted her in the gym, yet he knew it wouldn't always be so. Some days would be better, others worse. It would depend on a combination of things such as how well a mission went, did she have pleasant dreams or had she been plagued by nightmares?

Though she had initiated holding hands, Bruce could still feel the tension in her at being so close to him, and gently released her in such a way that she wouldn't have cause to think he didn't enjoy it. In fact, he hadn't enjoyed spending the day with a woman this much since before going on the run.

After Harlem, Bruce had put Betty out of his mind. He just wished it had been as easy to banish her from his heart. The last he'd heard she was engaged to Colonel Glenn Talbot with the full approval of her father. And while Bruce would always hold a special affection for Betty, the fact that her father still considered him a menace to society, and his inability to control the changes, kept them apart.

They took their order to go and walked through the arts district, sipping coffee while Natasha taught Bruce a few words in Russian. By the time they headed back to the car, he could order coffee and shawarma, and ask directions to the bathrooms. It had taken months for him to learn enough Bengali to be able to communicate with his patients while living in Calcutta. He didn't want to lose the language. As luck would have it, he made frequent visits Calcutta to check on his patients. Agent Grover's grandparents were from Mumbai, and he was happy to help Bruce keep his skills sharp. And considering the vast difference between the English and Russian, Bruce counted himself lucky to remember everything.

Sometimes, all it took was something small to break the spell of gloom, and while their silence wasn't of the sort that spoke of depression or exhaustion, Natasha gave that impression.

They cut through the park on the way back to the parking garage and as they passed a family playing in the grass, the little girl stopped and stared. She turned to her mother, pointing and saying something Bruce couldn't hear. The little girl's intentions were clear when she grabbed her mother's hand and dragged her forward.

"Excuse me," the mother said apologetically. "My daughter thinks you're the Black Widow and insisted on speaking you."

Smiling gently, Natasha crouched in front of the girl, "If you want me to be the Black Widow, _lyubimaya_ then yes, I am. But you mustn't tell anyone because my friend and I are incognito. That's means were in disguise."

The girl's eyes widened with a small amount of fear. "Are there bad guys here?"

"Not anymore. They've all gone to jail." Boldly, the girl reached out to touch Natasha's hair, fingering the wavy strands, and Natasha let her.

The girl stared intently at her, head tilted to the side. "When I grow up, I wanna be a Black Widow, just like you, and help people."

The sharp intake of breath was a sign that Natasha wasn't happy with that announcement, but she wouldn't be so insensitive as to say so. Instead, she her smile widened. "_Malyshka_, you can be whatever you want, and the best way to do that is to study hard, eat right and get lots of exercise to stay fit. But also take time to have fun."

"Okay." She'd been confident, but now Bruce felt the girl's reluctance just before she plowed ahead. "Can I hug you?"

"If it's okay with your mom and dad." Natasha gave the mother an inquiring glance and received a nod. Holding the girl under her arms, Natasha picked her up as she stood, returning the tight hug. The girl kissed her on the cheek and wiggled to get down. As they walked away, Natasha sighed, sadly it seemed.

Hands in his pockets, Bruce moved up next to Natasha, both watching mother and daughter walk away and the excitement in her voice at meeting the Black Widow. After a while, Bruce ventured a comment. "You'd make a wonderful mother, Tasha."

The wistful smile froze in place and Natasha's shoulders stiffened making Bruce wonder if he'd stuck his foot in his mouth without realizing it. Then, she looked at him with that half-smirk. "Maybe someday."

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** One more post-_The Avengers,_ pre-_Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ fic. This one is about Bruce and Natasha building a friendship after she's chased and nearly killed by the Other Guy.

Let me know what you think.

Many thanks to ladygris for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 3**

The lower edge of the sun slipped below the treetops, bringing with it the coolness of a spring evening. Pink, blue and pastel yellow fought over the sky giving everyone a light show to end the day.

Natasha brought the bike to a stop, and after Bruce had gotten off, wheeled it into the garage where the mechanics would give it a quick check and refuel it for the next person. Considering the personalities that SHIELD attracted, she was surprised the Harley wasn't used more often.

Though she tried to keep her spirits up for Bruce's sake, his comment about children had made her a little glum. There wasn't even the possibility of employing a surrogate because her ova and uterus were damaged to the point that they were useless. Without a giant leap in medical technology, there would be no way to have a child naturally. Not for the first time, Natasha wondered if that had been Petrovitch's original intent, to keep the Black Widows from passing on their enhancements to the next generation.

Whatever his objective, there was no denying the end result. No children for her, leaving adoption as the only alternative. But what would happen when her child grew old and she was still young and vibrant? She wasn't certain that would happen though she'd been told so by Petrovitch and his team of scientists. With few exceptions, she no longer had faith in anything her former mentor told her. The infertility had been confirmed by SHIELD's doctors, and she'd believed only after she'd seen the test results for herself.

Now, Natasha wondered if she should tell Bruce. No. They weren't yet to the point where they had a true friendship though today had gotten them a little closer. She still had the urge to distance herself from him, but it wasn't as strong as it had been even this morning. It was a gratifying sensation. Her only real friends were Clint, Coulson, Hill and Fury. With Coulson gone, that number had been reduced by one. When you only had a few close friends, the world could be a lonely place. Bruce had to be feeling much the same. Afraid to get close to others in case the Other Guy made an appearance that would shatter everything he tried to build. Maybe they had more in common than she originally thought. And maybe his idea had more than a little merit.

"Tasha?"

Her head came up at the sound of Bruce's voice so close to her. For his benefit, she smiled. "Spaced out there for a moment, but I'm back. Thank you for today, Bruce."

"You're welcome." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're a smart woman so you've probably already figured out that this is going to be a regular thing."

Her smile widened, the gloom turning to genuine pleasure. "I had a suspicion, and I've given the matter quite a bit of thought."

Bruce wasn't at all surprised. "And what have you decided?"

"I've decided that it will be a good thing, the two of us spending time together. That _is_ how friendships are built, right?"

His shoulders went up around his ears in an exaggerated shrug. "So they tell me. I suggested taking the day off because I didn't really feel like working. The project is at a point where it would benefit from simmering below the surface for a while."

"Honesty is a good thing." Again, she hooked her hand around his elbow, urging him toward the main building. His hands came out of his pockets, the left one held close to his body as they walked. "And I promise to try to return the favor."

Bruce slanted a glance at Natasha only to see her doing the same. She included an impudent smirk in that look and he couldn't help laughing out loud.

"Wanna let me in on the joke?"

Together, Bruce and Natasha looked at each other then up at the ceiling, their good humor turning to mild annoyance at seeing Clint hiding in the rafters. "You wouldn't understand the punchline, _Ebanashka_."

As if Clint weren't there, Bruce narrowed his eyes in thought. "_Ebanashka_. Crazy person?"

"_Ochen' khorosho!_ You learn quickly."

Patting the hand holding his arm, Bruce smiled down at Natasha. "I had a good teacher."

~~O~~

Clint watched Banner and Natasha ignore him and continue toward the main building.

"Speaking of teaching, you sure schooled those college boys," Banner said with great humor.

The archer was stunned into speechlessness at his partner's response. She chuckled and shook her head. "Who knew a Frisbee could be used to teach college boys a lesson?"

Banner's response came at the very limit of Clint's hearing. "Admit it, Tasha. You had fun."

"Yes, I did. I also have an idea for our next skip day."

"Do tell."

"What would you think of…"

They turned the corner out of sight. Clint could still hear them talking and laughing, but not what they were saying. Then, even that ended. Sitting in the rafters, one leg up with an arm propped on the knee, Clint's forehead crinkled in bewilderment. "She has nightmares for months about the Hulk, requests reassignment so she doesn't have to work with Banner. Now he's calling her Tasha and suddenly they're besties? I'm gonna find out what the hell's going on. Start with bugging their quarters." He snorted. "Yeah. Right. And maybe I should have Hill scan for flying pigs while I'm at it."

Getting to his feet, Clint opened the air vent above his head, climbed inside and pulled it closed behind him. Crawling through the ducts, he returned to his quarters. On the way, he was tempted to take a peek into Banner's and Natasha's rooms to find out more about what was going on, but he didn't. In the highly unlikely event that his friends decided to do a little mattress dancing, Clint didn't want that image keeping him awake at night.

Now that he was thinking about it, Clint wondered how that would work, and not in a creepy, voyeuristic way. The transformation was triggered when Banner's pulse reached two hundred beats per minute, an involuntary response to sexual arousal so how could Natasha and Banner be intimate and the scientist still be himself? Changing in the middle would be a real mood killer. Clint supposed there were meditation and biofeedback techniques that might work, but didn't count on it. They could also be just friends who enjoy each other's company without sex entering the mix.

Deciding that that was the most likely scenario, Clint changed and went to the gym. As her best friend, it was his duty to see to it that Natasha wasn't hurt, physically or emotionally. As long as they'd known each other, she had been aloof, holding back most of herself even from him, but the scene he just witnessed suggested that she was letting someone new in a little at a time.

Good.

**Several Weeks Later**

As Natasha walked across the helipad, the wind whipped her hair into her face, but she couldn't summon the energy to care at the moment. The mission she'd just completed had drained her. All she wanted at that moment was to curl up in bed and sleep for two days. But that wouldn't happen until after the debriefings and inevitable appearance before the council. She descended the staircase that would take her to staff quarters, passing agents in the hall and ignoring their greetings.

Inside the small room, she showered while the computer powered up. Taking a seat at the desk, she saw the flashing icon indicating new email. Clicking on the envelope, she smiled at the name of the sender and again when she read the text.

_You are cordially invited to spend the day goofing off, slacking and engaging in general goldbricking with Dr. Bruce Banner. Date and time to be determined at your discretion. RSVP ASAP!_

Instead of replying to the email, Natasha decided to speak to Bruce directly. After the last few weeks, she needed some down time and couldn't imagine spending it with anyone other than him. Their time together building a friendship was just what she needed. That last thought was accompanied by a wry grin. Even when he wasn't with her, Bruce could make her smile. Natasha shoved her feet into sneakers to go down to Research then, another email arrived. This one from Hill advising Natasha that the first debriefing would begin at sixteen hundred today instead of tomorrow.

She toed off the sneakers and changed into off duty wear. Standing in front of the mirror, she used a comb to bring some order to her wavy hair again contemplating getting it cut and styled.

Hours later, Natasha left the conference room more tired than ever. Even so, she rode the elevator down to Research. Peeking in the window of the lab, she saw Bruce sitting at the computer console, tapping his chin with a knuckle as he thought through a problem. He took off his glasses, rubbed both hands over his face then made a jaw-popping yawn. Time to intervene. She tapped on the glass. Bruce looked up, smiled and waved her in. "Welcome back. How'd it go?"

"Same as always. You?"

Bruce nodded at the SHIELD agent standing off to one side. "Your relief doesn't have your sense of humor. All he's done is walk around or stand in the corner staring vacantly into space."

Keeping her expression neutral, Natasha let her eyes do the smiling. "All work and no play. Speaking of which, I'll be back on the job tomorrow. What say we take the day and do something fun, Dr. Banner?"

"I'd say that's a terrific idea, Agent Romanoff. What did you have in mind?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." Crossing her arms and leaning against the edge of the desk, Natasha pursed her lips in thought. "Why don't we just play it by ear?"

Bruce leaned back in his chair, slightly slumped with his arms crossed. "Works for me. Have you made a list of things you'd like to do?"

"More of a mental list. I've been ice skating but never rollerblading or skateboarding, never walked a dog or played with a cat, that I recall. Never been to a party just for fun, played pin the tail on the donkey, Simon Says, Hide-and-go-seek, or board games. It's a long list."

"We'll have to change that." Bruce chuckled and shook his head. "Let's make it a game day. All of the aforementioned games and anything else that strikes our fancy."

Natasha looked at the clock. "I have a debriefing to get to."

She pushed off the counter and Bruce walked her to the elevator. "We need a place to play."

Smiling, Natasha said, "My apartment in the city. We'll order lunch, play games. Maybe even watch a movie. I'll text you the address. I'm sure Clint would be happy to give you a lift."

"Ten good for you?"

"Perfect. See you then."

**A Couple of Months Later**

Standing in the hall outside the research lab, Hill stared at the empty room. In fact, all the labs on this level were empty when they should be occupied by scientists going about their daily routines, whatever that may be. Computers, she knew, but when it came to Banner's specialties, she only understood a small part of his explanations. And when Banner got together with Stark, she might as well have been dropped on an alien planet without a translator. That's why she avoided coming down here and why Romanoff was assigned to keep watch over the brain trust.

An update had been expected this morning from Banner regarding his progress, and he usually didn't miss deadlines. When nothing had been received, Hill came to investigate, assuming she'd see Banner and his team toiling away oblivious to the time, as are most scientists. Instead, she was greeted by silence and darkened rooms filled with idling equipment.

Hill tapped her headset. "Call Agent Romanoff_._" A response came less than a minute after her order.

"_Romanoff._"

Crinkling her forehead in confusion, Hill noticed that Romanoff sounded slightly winded. Odd, because the Russian could run flat-out for miles and still carry on an intense conversation. "This is Hill. Where are you?"

Romanoff grunted over a scraping-swooshing sound that Hill couldn't identify. "_Home. Why?_"

Hill casually remarked, "You're supposed to be guarding Banner in the lab and neither of you are here."

"_We took the day off._" Another grunt came through the phone, accompanied by Romanoff's voice softening when she'd moved away from the phone. "_Ow! Bruce, my hair's caught on your watch."_

In the background, Hill heard Banner grunt, some fumbling around then, "_Sorry. Wanna keep going?_"

With a smirk in her voice, Romanoff said, "_I can do this all day, __lyubimaya__._" She came back on the line, "_It'll be business as usual tomorrow. Anything else?_"

Grunting, groaning and other inarticulate noises came through startling Hill. Hill took a deep breath to keep from asking the questions their conversation brought up. "Not at the moment. I'll text you, and come see me when you get in."

Banner called out, "_Wh-whoa!_" immediately followed by the soft thud of bodies falling against each other and laughter from the scientist and Romanoff. "_You okay?_"

Hill heard Romanoff say, "_I'm fine, but next time…_

"_You get to be on top._"

The laughter grew, cutting off suddenly.

~~O~~

Natasha used her thumb to turn the phone off and tossed it on the sofa. "There. Now no one will bother us."

Bruce rolled onto his back and sat up next to Natasha on the wrinkled Twister mat. He'd slipped while trying to reach over to put his right hand on red, falling on top of Natasha sending them both to the floor. "Who was it?"

"Hill. Wanting our weekly reports, no doubt. We should let her know when we're taking the day."

Bruce rested his left elbow on his raised knee, grinning ruefully. "Or not take off on report day." He got to his feet, reaching down to pull her up beside him. "Let's order lunch and find an activity that doesn't involve twisting my forty-something body in ways it's not meant to go."

Natasha scooped up a stack of menus from the coffee table, shuffling them so he could see. "Thai, Chinese, Italian, Indian, pizza, burgers, sushi. Take your pick."

Bruce looked over at Natasha with a grin. "Surprise me."

"Greek it is." She retrieved the phone, turned it back on and scrolled her contact list.

"This was the first time you've ever played Twister? For realsies?" His wry grin said he didn't believe her.

~~O~~

Natasha knew Twister, of course. One could hardly have gotten to her age without at least acquiring a basic knowledge of the rules. His use of kids' slang made her smile widen, echoing his words. "For _realsies_. However, I have had a few invitations to play _naked_ Twister."

"We should play." Natasha snorted and Bruce realized what he said. "I meant _regular_ Twister."

"I know." While she called in their lunch order, Bruce carried their cups to the kitchen for refills of coffee. "_Geiá sou_, Christos. _Naí_, Natasha. Spinach _tiropitas_, calamari, double up on the Pastichio and Mousaka, _parakaló__̱__…Sas ef__̱__charistó__̱__._"

Natasha put the phone aside and he passed her one of the cups keeping the other for himself. "I haven't had lamb since Calcutta."

"You want something else? I can change the order."

"It just reminds me that the people I tried to help didn't have much, but were happy to share. Sometimes it was the only meal I had that day or the next." He indicated his clean and obviously new clothes. "The men sometimes gave me clothing and shoes. The women tried to set me up with their daughters, sisters, maiden aunts, and the kids wanted me to play with them."

"Sweet and a little creepy. What were the ages of the women?"

"The oldest was in her sixties, and not bad looking for an older woman. Youngest, I think she was about fourteen. I tried to explain that I wasn't in the market for a mate. Not that it did any good."

They settled into a companionable silence then abruptly, Natasha turned and went into her bedroom. "Come give me a hand, please, Bruce."

From inside the closet and standing on a small step ladder, Natasha felt Bruce's millisecond of hesitation. Then, he crossed her bedroom floor and came to a stop behind her. "Absolutely."

Letting humor enter her voice, Natasha moved stuff around on the top shelf. "If I wanted to have my way with you, I wouldn't use subterfuge."

"Since we agreed to be truthful, and before I get in the closet with you, there's something you should know."

Natasha let Bruce know that she was intrigued. She looked over her shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised. "O-oh. Sounds serious."

"It is. I admit that the thought had crossed my mind on more than a few occasions."

"Pardon?"

Hands in his pockets, Bruce's mouth turned up on one side. "Let's just say my curiosity isn't the only thing that was aroused during that game of Twister." She paused in her search then started again. "Your homeowner's insurance probably doesn't include destruction caused by an angry Other Guy."

Not embarrassed in the slightest, Natasha handed Bruce a case two feet by two feet by six inches deep. "We don't have to do this, you know. We could just watch something on television."

"Let's watch while we eat. I wanna know what's in the box."

Natasha jumped down from the ladder and followed Bruce out into the living room. Laying the box on the table, she opened the latches and lifted the top. Bruce whistled the way men do when a pretty girl in a short skirt sashays past a construction site or a cherry muscle car cruises by. "Clint gave them to me for Christmas a couple of years ago. Haven't used 'em yet."

Bruce lifted out one of the pieces, looking at it from all angles. "I'm honored to be your first."

He said the last with a wink and a smile to show her he was teasing, and Natasha let the matter of his typically male reaction drop. "Know how to use them?"

"I have a basic idea. Give me a quick tutorial while we suit up."

~~O~~

Whistling tunelessly, Mike buzzed Romanoff's apartment. She answered immediately. "_Yes?_"

"It's Mike from Pappouli's, Ms. Romanoff."

"Come on up, Mike." The buzzer sounded, he grabbed the door and stepped into the lobby making sure he pulled the door closed behind him. Taking the stairs two at a time, he climbed to the top floor, walked the length of the hall and knocked on the door of 5B, jumping back in alarm when the door opened.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** One more post-_The Avengers,_ pre-_Captain America: The Winter Soldier_ fic. This one is about Bruce and Natasha building a friendship after she's chased and nearly killed by the Other Guy.

Let me know what you think.

Many thanks to ladygris for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 4**

Mike was confronted by two people in vests covered with flashing LED lights, wearing matching goggles and holding what looked like oversized toy space weapons. He backed up until he was pressed up against the railing, plastic bags with handles dangling from one hand. "Uh…"

The shorter of the two pushed the goggles up on her head and Mike sagged in relief at seeing Ms. Romanoff looking back at him. She handed him a folded bill while the man-at least he assumed it was a man-took the bags. "That was quick. Thank Cristo for me, Mike."

The door slammed on dual laughing coming from Ms. Romanoff and her companion. Shaking his head, Mike thumped down the stairs. "She is _so_ weird. Must be an artist or somethin'."

~~O~~

Bruce removed his goggles on the way to the dining room and set the food on the table to remove the vest, placing the laser tag gear on the buffet cabinet next to Natasha's while she brought dishes and silverware. He set out the food as she went back to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of Dr. Pepper and two glasses. She opened the bottle and poured while he filled their plates with a little of each dish.

Natasha raised her glass and said, "_Za vas!_"

To which Bruce responded, "_A votre santé!_"

They touched glasses and drank, enjoying a companionable silence with only the clink of silverware against the plates and city sounds to provide ambiance. When the food was gone and Baklava was all that remained, Bruce carried their dishes and containers into the kitchen. The leftovers went into the refrigerator and the dishes into a sink full of soapy hot water.

As if they'd been doing it for years, Bruce washed while Natasha dried and put away. She dropped the last fork into the drawer and closed it. "So, movie, board game, Legos?"

"Prank phone calls?" By the look in her eyes, Bruce could tell she was tempted. Ultimately, she demurred. "We could take a walk."

"Hmm. I have an idea. Wait here." Natasha stepped into the hall. Bruce heard her knock on a neighbor's door, a short conversation and laughter later, she returned, holding the leash of a dog. "Come on."

Before long, Bruce and Natasha were in a dog park walking with the neighbor's Yorkie on the end of a retractable leash. The dog pranced daintily along in front of them, proudly wearing a pink bow on her head. Bruce held the leash in his right hand with Natasha's hand wrapped around his left elbow. The other dog owners smiled and nodded as they passed as if they all belonged to a secret club. Tomorrow, they'd be ignored again, but for today, they were part of something bigger that had nothing to do with saving the world.

Bruce felt Natasha looking at him. "What?"

"A man has to be really secure in his masculinity to walk a dog like this."

He chuckled. "Then it's a good thing I have a beautiful woman at my side as a distraction."

They walked for a while then Natasha said, "I'm leaving again."

"For how long?" He kept his voice even with just the right amount of curiosity, not wanting her to know just how much he would miss seeing her every day. The pause before responding told him he hadn't gotten away with his ruse. Natasha was kind enough not to mention it, and that was just one of the things he liked about her.

"Protection detail. Should be back by the weekend. Hopefully."

Bruce's sigh matched Natasha's. "I know how _that_ goes. A few days can turn into weeks."

"Or months."

Nodding, he faced forward again, his eyes on the dog's stub of a tail. The brown and black coat was medium length and well-groomed. They moved back onto the sidewalk, her toenails tapping on the concrete. Natasha now seemed introspective, her mind far away. "Not worried, are you?"

Her fingers flexed on his arm. "I was thinking about my _last_ protection detail. We were run off the road. I got us out of the water and we were confronted by a man known to some as the Winter Soldier. I've always thought he was myth or a ghost."

"But now you're a true believer."

They took a few steps before she continued. "He's said to be responsible for a number of executions over the last fifty years."

"Sounds menacing."

They took a few more steps and stopped when the dog decided she'd walked enough and lay down refusing to get up and move. Natasha picked her up and took a seat on a bench. Bruce sat next to her still holding the leash. She stroked the dog's head and back absently. "He shot his target _through_ me. I spent a month recuperating."

Bruce greatly overplayed astonishment. "An entire month? I'd've thought you'd be back at work the next day. Certainly no more than a week."

Her smile turned sad. "Two weeks after surgery, I received word that an old friend had passed away. Her funeral was in Volgograd. I stayed around for a few days."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Natasha stopped stroking the dog, starting again when the dog pawed her hand. "After the funeral, those few of us who are left went for a drink. Most are gone. The rest have made lives for themselves outside of the Black Widow program. I'm the only one still in the game. After that, I drove to the 2R facility. It burned to the ground many years ago and was never rebuilt. Then, I went to visit the graves of my family."

"Was that your first visit?"

"Yes. I even drove past where our home used to be. It was rebuilt, of course. The family that lives there now was playing in the yard. They seemed happy."

Slanting a look at her, Bruce wondered what she was thinking. "Only seemed?"

A quick nod, just a small downward movement of her chin was all he got. "Looks can be deceiving."

To break the spell of gloom, Bruce picked up the dog, holding her in front of his face. She licked the end of his nose, making him smile. "Ready to go home?"

She responded with a small yip of agreement. Bruce and Natasha got to their feet and turned in the direction of her apartment building. These past few weeks, he'd enjoyed exploring activities he hadn't in a long time or not at all, and was certain that Natasha felt the same. However, both seemed to prefer their quiet walks.

They gave the dog back to her owner and returned to Natasha's apartment. Once the door was closed, she stood in the middle of the living room and for one of the few times since he'd known her she seemed unsure. No, that wasn't the right word. Adrift, as if the talk of her former life in Russia had stirred up emotions and sensations that she'd long ago buried. Bruce didn't know if he should try to cheer her up or let her work things out on her own.

Natasha turned toward him, and just for a moment, the mask slipped and he saw the vulnerable woman beneath the Black Widow's façade. Bruce closed the gap, taking her into his arms. Her fingers curled loosely into the fabric of his shirt. And though she accepted the small gesture of comfort, there were no tears. Not that he expected them. Still, it would've been nice to know that she could be a normal, everyday woman in at least one respect. But then, she wouldn't have been Natasha, and when all was said and done, he actually preferred this version. Still, having a woman, any woman-or man for that matter-trust him enough to be this close was a breakthrough.

When they worked together, Stark often stood next to or behind him, touching him on the shoulder. Then again, Stark wasn't your average genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist. Prior to the start of the invasion Stark had poked him just to see what the reaction would be, disappointed when Bruce hadn't changed. Stark hadn't been afraid of him, and Bruce appreciated it more than he could ever say.

Thankfully, Natasha had gotten over her fear of him or they wouldn't be standing in her living room hugging. The stiffness in her shoulders eased up a bit. Bruce took that as a signal and released her. To give her a few moments alone, he went into the kitchen and took down glasses. Going to the refrigerator, he poured milk into them. Opening the pantry, he pulled out a package, opened it and places several cookies on a plate. Setting it all on a tray, he carried it out to the living room to the coffee table. He passed her a glass, and she waited until he sat beside to her before taking one of the Oreos.

"Some people dunk and eat." Bruce took a cookie, dunked it and bit off the milk soaked half, watching Natasha follow his lead. When the first cookie was gone, he picked up a second one. Instead of dunking, he twisted the halves apart. "Some pull them apart, eat the filling then dunk the cookie part." Again, he demonstrated. "Still others twist apart, lick the filling, eat the cookie and follow them both with a long drink of milk. How you do it, is up to you."

Hazel eyes slanted over to meet his then back to her glass, pursing her lips in the way that told Bruce she knew what he was up to and would let him get away with it just this once. One eyebrow moved upward a fraction of an inch. She went to the kitchen, returning shortly. Resuming her seat, Natasha drank all but a couple of ounces of the milk, dropped a cookie into it and used a spoon to break it up. When it was good and soggy, she spooned out the wet cookie and ate it then wiped her hands and mouth on a napkin.

Grinning, Bruce picked up his milk. "And some do whatever the hell they want." He finished off the milk and returned the glass to the tray. About to carry the tray and its contents to the kitchen, Bruce felt he was being stared at again. He leaned his forearms on his thighs as he gave her a quizzical look. "What?"

Turning sideways, Natasha smiled, her left hand coming up to brush a lock of dark hair from his forehead. He sat up when she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "Thanks for cheering me up."

"You're welcome." Almost as if she didn't know she was doing it, the tip of a finger lightly traced the outer edge of his ear, the sensation making his pulse speed up fractionally. To stop it, he took Natasha's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Then, as if Natasha had hypnotized him, he leaned in and their lips touched. He meant it to be brief, a second or two. No more. Seconds came and went along with his willpower when Natasha tilted her head for a different angle, her hands framing his face as she deepened the kiss.

As if he'd been lost in the desert, he drank from her full, moist lips, and she returned the favor. It amazed him that she was as hungry for him as he was for her. Their eyes closed. His arms enfolded her against his chest, turning her to lie across his lap, the fingers of her left hand gripping his shirt, crushing the material.

It had been so long, years, since he'd held a woman in his arms for something other than comfort as the last moments of life drained away from her or a family member because there was no way to stop it. And he found that he'd missed the physical intimacy more than he ever thought possible.

Tracing his tongue along her lower lip to request access, his stomach dipped, like going over the top of a rollercoaster, when her mouth opened to him. Her tongue darted out to touch his, and through the blood pounding in his ears, he heard the beeping of the heart monitor warning him that his pulse was quickly approaching the two hundred mark.

He pushed Natasha away and leapt to his feet, closing his eyes and breathing deeply in an attempt to divert a disaster. The beeping slowed, but didn't stop. Natasha took hold of his wrist. Fear that he'd hurt sent him to the door and, hopefully, freedom. It was unlikely that he'd get far enough away to keep from destroying this part of New York, but he had to try.

~~O~~

As their mouths moved together, Natasha parted her lips so she could taste Bruce with her tongue, the sweetness of the Oreos compelling her to curl her fingers into his shirt.

Suddenly, he pulled away, and she fell from his lap to land on her right hip between the coffee table and the sofa. He moved to the middle of the room, head bowed and hands clienched. Closing his eyes, he inhaled and exhaled in a meditative rhythm bringing his pulse down.

She took slow, measured steps to his side, taking his wrist and glancing at the display. It still beeped indicating that his pulse had lowered though not enough. He jerked at her touch. Moving quickly, he headed for the door.

Natasha caught up with him before he could leave. Again, he pulled free, refusing to look at her. Just like on the helicarrier, his voice became deeper, rougher, almost a growl. "I have to get as far from here as possible, Tasha. I don't want to hurt you, or anyone else."

The note of pleading in his voice cut like a knife, but she refused to let him go through this alone. "I can help. Please, Bruce. Let me try." Taking his hand, she turned him to face her waiting patiently until he finally looked at her. Unlike on the carrier, the brown of his irises hadn't turned green, and his skin retained the normal coloring. He may feel the change beginning inside, but Natasha doubted it would happen. But what _she_ thought didn't matter. Reluctantly, Bruce let her lead him to the center of the room. She urged him to sit on the floor. "Just keep breathing. I'll be right back."

Natasha quickly closed the drapes, blocking out most of the early evening sun. She went into the bedroom and brought out several candles to add to those already positioned around the room. In moments, the calming scent of sandalwood was carried on the light breeze from the A/C. Using the remote, she turned on what Clint called her music to nap by. Carefully arranged harmonies and rhythms that helped slow the heart rate, reduce blood pressure and lower the levels of the stress hormone cortisol. Flutes, violins, lutes, an acoustic guitar and harp blended with sounds of ocean waves lapping at the shore.

"Inhale…and slowly exhale. Allow each breath to cleanse and restore your body and spirit…" she took a slow breath, "…feel your mind clearing, open to all that surrounds you…" she inhaled and exhaled again, "…welcome the silence…become aware of your body's movements and how you feel in the present moment…so much of the stress and tension we experience comes from our mind. Calm your mind and your body will naturally follow. When the turbulence of distracting thoughts subsides and your mind becomes still, a deep contentment will arise from within. This feeling of contentment and well-being helps us to cope with the difficulties of daily life. Soon, you'll experience a calm, spacious feeling in the mind…"

Lifting her head slightly, Natasha peeked at Bruce sitting across from her, his legs in the vajra posture. His chin had sunk down to touch his chest, the backs of his hands resting comfortably on the inside of his knees. His breaths came slow and steady. To her relief, the heart monitor had finally ceased its annoying racket. _It worked!_ "Bruce?"

"Hmm?"

Bruce's hum of a response sounded far away, almost as if he were in a hypnotic, dreamlike state. Keeping her voice low, she asked, "How do you feel?"

"Like the worst kind of fool."

"Why?"

He uncrossed his legs, stretching them out in front of him with a grunt. "For scaring you again."

On her knees, she moved to Bruce's side, sitting on her heels so they were eye to eye. "I'm _not_ afraid you, Bruce. Not anymore." She scooted closer. "You _can_ learn to control your gift."

Leaning back on his hands, Bruce shook his head. "It's not a gift, Tasha. It's a curse that keeps me from having a normal life." He lay on his back bringing his knees up and resting his hands on his stomach.

Natasha lay down next to him. "Being normal is overrated. Or so I've heard."

The scientist heaved a sigh fueled by frustration. "I'm not talking every-day, annoying things like bad hair days, your significant other's snoring, gas prices, no hot water, skinny jeans or when the waiter brings the wrong order. I can't ride the subway-especially in New York, rock concerts are out for obvious reasons, so are protest marches, and let's not forget alien invasions, having a genetically altered human calling himself The Abomination start a fight, and today's big no-no, being intimate with a woman."

Rolling onto her side, her head propped in her hand, Natasha scolded him with her tone. "I read Stark's report. That much gamma radiation would've killed anyone else. Your unique DNA kept you from dying in the accident."

He mirrored her position. "The Other Guy would only be a good thing if I could control him. And we just had a demonstration of how well _that_ works."

She grabbed his free hand. "But you _can_ control it, Bruce. When the leviathan attacked, you were able to transform when you needed to. With practice, you'll be able to do it at will."

"That's not something I'm anxious to try. Especially not in a place where people could get hurt." Pulling his hand free, Bruce lay on his back again staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm not suggesting you allow yourself to go through the change then try to change back. Not yet. Meditation can help calm your mind in times of stress. When you get proficient, you can even do it with your eyes open, walking through a crowded mall, in the subway, any time you need it." Touching his cheek, Natasha gave him a confident smile. "We can start slow."

The sardonic look in Bruce's eyes widened Natasha's smile. "I'm not offering for the reason you think. I know you can do this, Bruce. You _can_ control the Other Guy. When he comes out and when he goes away. Time and practice."

"I don't know." He looked directly at her. "What if you get hurt? The last time, you almost died." Rolling away from her, he got to his feet and she came up with him. Turned toward the darkened television, he rubbed his hands together. "I've seen the report. Thor came along just in time to stop him from killing you."

"Immediately after that, I got into a brawl with Clint."

"Which freed him from Loki's control. If I-the Other Guy had killed you…"

"But he _didn't_. _You_ didn't." Natasha moved around in front of Bruce waiting until he looked at her to continue. "He had me backed into a corner, Bruce. There was nowhere to hide. All it would've taken was a second slap and my life would've ended right there. He's more aware than you think because he hesitated just long enough for Thor to tackle him. I sat in the corner shaking, too scared to move until Fury announced that Clint was on board. In that moment, I knew I'd been spared in order to save my friend.

"Without that brief moment of clarity, everything that followed wouldn't have happened. Thor, Stark, Clint, Steve, you, me, Selvig, Fury, and thousands-or even millions-of civilians, would all be dead or dying. Manhattan would be a radioactive crater, and Loki and the Chitauri would now be in control of Earth."

~~O~~

They might still have defeated the Chitauri, but Bruce was doubtful. The conflict was brought to an end when Stark flew the bomb into the other realm while Selvig and Natasha closed the portal. It was folly to call that instance a defining moment when there were so many of them. However, mentioning it wouldn't make him any points with Natasha. "I've tried meditation with only moderate success. While living in British Columbia, I'd transformed into the Other Guy and back at-will on several occasions.

"Before long, I'd achieved a level of proficiency that made me think I could have a normal life so I moved from the shack where I'd been living, traveling to some of the smaller villages, giving medical help wherever I could. Then, a few months later, there was an incident." All this time and he still felt shame and remorse. "People died because of me. After that, I-"

"Is that when…"

"Yes. Since I've never been off SHIELD's radar, I won't go into details. Suffice it to say I had a crisis of faith." Natasha held out her hand and he relented, admitting to both of them that he needed the comfort of a friend. They both did.

Bruce saw the relief in the slight relaxing of her shoulders. "You were able to stop it this time. It _will_ work, Bruce."

"When you say it like that, I believe you. What's the next step?"

Her expression softened, her lips turning up in a small smile reminding him of how they had felt against his. "Meditate for ten minutes three to five times a day while I'm gone. Find somewhere quiet, dark and cool. Light scented candles and play music. Whatever works for you. And join a yoga class. When I come back, we'll take a look at your progress and make a decision from there."

Touched by her steadfast friendship and the confidence she projected, Bruce drew her into a loose hug. She laid her head on his shoulder for a moment then stepped back forcing him to release her. The grandfather clock chimed the time, and Bruce was surprised to see that it was nearly midnight. Their meditations had gone on longer than he thought. What had felt like no more than thirty minutes had, in actuality, been hours. "I should go before you're stuck with an uninvited overnight guest."

The gentle smile turned cheeky, made more so when her left eyebrow edged upward a fraction of an inch. "Consider this an invitation."

A tug revealed that Natasha still held onto his right hand and he put up no resistance as she led him into the bedroom. Releasing him, she tossed the fancy shams in a chair and pulled out the pillows, placing them on top of the spread. She sat down on the side of the bed to take off her boots then went into the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later wearing sleep pants and a T-shirt, tossing him a bundle of clothing. "Something for you to sleep in. Sweatpants and an old T-shirt of Clint's."

It was on the tip of Bruce's tongue to ask why she had clothes belonging to Barton, but didn't. "We shouldn't do this, Tasha."

"Relax. We're just gonna sleep." She lobbed a sheet at him, keeping another for herself. "There's a toothbrush in the drawer. Don't take long. I have a mission briefing in the morning and need my sleep."

She unfolded the sheet, lay down on the bed and covered herself. With an internal shrug, Bruce went into the bathroom and closed the door. The toothbrush was still in the package. He used it, making a mental note to replace it.

Carrying his clothes, he returned to the bedroom and hung them over the back of the vanity chair. Natasha was on her right side facing the closet, one arm resting on her hip and the other under her pillow, probably holding onto a gun or knife. Her eyes were closed.

Still believing this was a bad idea, Bruce shook out the sheet, lay down as far from Natasha as possible, covered himself and switched out the light.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Many thanks to ladygris for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 5**

Morning in Manhattan was much like any other big city. The sun crept over the horizon, its rays touching everything, bringing the world to life once more, even in a city that never sleeps.

Natasha took the handgun from under her pillow and stashed it in the bedside table drawer so Bruce wouldn't know. She hadn't done it because he'd stayed the nigh. Old habits were hard to break and having an overnight guest wouldn't change them. Besides, shooting Bruce would only make him angry. A sardonic smile curved her lips up at the corners. _And no one wants that._

The other side of the bed shifted and a snort telling her that Bruce was waking up. She rolled over onto her other side so they were now facing each other. He'd started the night curled in a tight ball, knees up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them. A bad dream had him muttering in his sleep waking her. To sooth him, she had cuddled against his back and held him tightly to her while she sang a lullaby only half remembered from her childhood before the 2R facility. Through the night, his hold loosened and his legs straightened. Eventually, the murmuring stopped and Natasha returned to her side of the bed.

Propping her head on her hand, she waited for Bruce to open his eyes, and soon, he did, blinking in the sunshine softened by filtering through the curtains on the patio doors. He yawned while rubbing his eyes with one hand, the other still shoved under the pillow. Lifting his head, he looked around, his gaze falling on Natasha. She smiled. "Good morning."

"Mmm. Morning. What time is it?"

"Early yet. How did you sleep?" Natasha knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from Bruce.

His shoved his free hand up under his chin. "Pretty good considering. My dreams aren't what you'd call pleasant."

Her gaze searched his face, taking his features one at a time, coming back to the eyes. They were a color of brown that was lighter than bittersweet chocolate and darker than ground cinnamon, radiating warmth, compassion and humor bound together with the sparkle of great intelligence. Reaching out, she brushed a lock of dark hair from his forehead. The flicker of light in the depths of his eyes spoke of imminent arousal, and she smiled at the realization that she could have that effect on him. He returned the smile, taking her hand and gently holding on. Careful not break eye contact, he lightly touched his lips to the back of her fingers. "As good as that feels, you need to stop."

"Is spooning out as well?"

Bruce chuckled and threw off the sheet in invitation. "Just remember it's morning."

"Yet you're still here." The sardonic smile in his voice made her feel good.

"Coulson was our handler. With him gone, Clint and I now report directly to Fury. Hill can make changes to our assignments, but she won't do it." Natasha shrugged. "And she's right.

Taking a deep breath, she let it out along with some of the pain of the past. "When I was younger, if I was afraid of something, I would do it to keep from being afraid anymore. But when he came after me…" A small shudder shook her body.

Bruce rubbed the side of her neck below her ear with his bristly cheek. "Not a bad philosophy. Doesn't always work though. I know from experience that fear is necessary for survival. Risking your life-and the lives of others-unnecessarily is just plain stupid. And stupid is not a word I would associate with you, Tasha."

Natasha glanced over her shoulder, smiling her appreciation, snuggling just the upper half of her body deeper into Bruce's embrace.

~~O~~

Using his nose to move her hair to the side, Bruce was surprised when Natasha rolled over to face him, her thick lashes brushing her cheeks. Slowly, she tilted her head back until their eyes met. She leaned in to kiss him, just a brief touch of her lips on his, and he responded in kind before releasing her and getting out of bed.

On her stomach, head pillowed on her folded arms, her hazel eyes twinkled with humor. Rubbing his palms together uneasily, Bruce tried to smile. He must've succeeded because she crawled to the side of the bed and stood in front of him, and she wasn't scowling. "Something wrong, _lyubimaya?_"

"That's not a good idea, Tasha."

Natasha grinned cheekily. "Just conducting an experiment. Let's get dressed and go out for breakfast then to the office." He hesitated, and she rushed to assure him, "No kissing."

Taking his clothes from the chair, Bruce offered her a mock irritated glare. "I'm not saying no kissing _ever_. But first thing in the morning can be a difficult time for men. It also presents a unique situation for me and the Other Guy. I'd rather not go into specifics."

"Not necessary. You can use the ensuite to take a shower, if you like."

"You wouldn't happen to have something else of Barton's I can wear?"

She answered while taking clothes from the closet. "Sorry. No. I wore those home one day after someone dumped coffee on me. Just haven't given 'em back yet." Bruce was relieved and it showed on his face because she huffed good-naturedly. "Clint and I are _not_ sleeping together."

"You mean the rumors aren't _true?_" His shock was purposely overplayed, making her laugh.

"No, they're not." Her smile softened, became warmer. "Go get cleaned up. I need coffee, and _you_ need to eat."

Natasha poked him in the chest and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Every time Bruce thought he had her figured out, she became someone else, yet she still retained that aura of…he didn't know what to call that unique element that defined the real Natasha. The one underneath the innumerable roles she'd taken on as a spy. A single thread that was woven throughout her life. If he were to track it, who knew how many twists and turns he would be forced to navigate to find the little girl who had been orphaned at the age of seven.

While he was dressing, Bruce decided it would be a pleasurable experience getting to know all of Natasha's personalities.

~~O~~

Standing with her arms crossed and her usual expressionless mask in place, Hill kept both eyes on the elevator while her internal clock counted down to Zero Hour and past. To her left, Barton tossed a ball with his right hand. It hit the first the floor then the wall, and he caught it in his left. Over and over again until Hill wanted to elbow him in the throat and slam his head against the wall. The urge remained even as she heard the lift stop on their floor and the doors opened.

Banner and Romanoff stepped out laughing, Banner saying, "_That's_ what happened in Budapest? How much did Barton pay you to keep it out of the official reports?"

Before Romanoff could answer, Barton stepped huffed. "Obviously not enough."

Hill aimed a glare first at Romanoff then at Banner. "You're late."

Romanoff pressed her lips together, killing the laughter. "We stopped for breakfast."

Barton's attitude changed as he looked the scientist over. "Those the same clothes you wore yesterday?"

Looking down at himself, Banner shrugged. "Haven't been home yet."

"Why not?" was Hill's inquiry which she immediately regretted because Banner had a nasty habit of telling the truth, and right now, she preferred to hear a lie.

Looking sideways at Banner, Romanoff answered for him, combining it with a secretive smile. "He spent the night at my place."

With a grin that mirrored Romanoff's, Banner stuck his elbow out in a courtly manner. "Lady Romanoff, permit me I escort you to the lab."

Her small hand wrapped around the bottom of Banner's bicep. "I'd be delighted, Lord Banner." She waited until they'd turned in the direction of the lab's secured entrance to continue. "It's the least you can do after we slept together."

Humor still swirling around them, the scientist pressed his thumb to the DNA scanner. "Next time, I'll bring my own shampoo and body wash. Yours is too girly."

One step at a time, Hill and Barton followed in the footsteps of the couple, watching them through the window. They shared a glance then back to the lab where the scientist and his bodyguard were still talking and laughing. Then, they were taken aback when Romanoff leaned against Banner's side. Banner draped an arm around her shoulder, kissed her on the temple and released her.

Again, Barton and Hill shared a look then Barton turned and walked away leaving Hill to reflect on a relationship she hadn't anticipated when Fury told her to assign Romanoff to this detail. _What the hell is Fury gonna say?_

To Hill's surprise, when she told him, Fury merely nodded without commenting. He'd known all along this would happen.

~~O~~

As the sun began its downward trek, one by one, the other scientists took their leave until only Bruce and Natasha remained. Her stomach grumbled as a reminder that lunch had been many hours ago. Bruce's metabolism required twice that of hers. If she was hungry, he had to be famished.

She walked around in front of him and waited to be acknowledged. He was either ignoring her or was too involved in work to notice her or the time. Natasha had personal errands to run, but she couldn't leave while Bruce was still in the lab, and the time for subtlety had long passed.

With determined steps, Natasha marched up to Bruce, and grabbed the front of his shirt. His startled "What the…" cut off when she pulled him into a kiss. She made no demands of him aside from securing his attention.

_Mission accomplished_, she thought when his hands lightly touched her waist and slid upward onto her ribs. It felt really good until he used that to separate them. Trying to make the movement seem casual, Bruce leaned back a little giving them both some breathing room, smiling shyly. "What _was_ that?"

She tilted her head to the side. "You didn't like it?"

"You know I did. It was nice."

Her eyes narrowed in mock irritation. "No man has ever used the word 'nice' to describe my kisses."

The teasing gleam in her hazel eyes brought a slow grin to Bruce's expression. "Oh?"

Though she fought it, her grin matched his. "Incredible, astonishing, mind-blowing, electrifying. Even the occasional wow. But never anything as mundane as _nice_."

Bruce placed a hand over his heart and made a small bow. "My apologies, Agent Romanoff. As a scientist, I should know better than to form theories based on just a few samplings. Not to mention skipping several steps in the accepted scientific method."

Natasha moved imperceptibly closer. "What does the scientific method entail?"

"You start by asking a question. The purpose of a question is to narrow the focus of the inquiry, to identify the problem in specific terms. In this particular instance, there are two questions. One, does Natasha want to kiss Bruce? And two, does Bruce want to kiss Natasha? For the sake of argument, let's assume the answer to both questions is yes."

Bruce drew Natasha over to the sofa then sat next to her turned sideways with one arm resting along the back. "Background research comes next. Let's assume that's already been done. The next step is to construct a hypothesis. Generally, a hypothesis is stated as an 'if…then' statement, but it doesn't have to be. Deduction requires movement in logic from the general to the specific. 'Kissing will be enjoyable for both parties'. We follow that with testing the hypothesis by performing experiments."

"Ideally, how many experiments should one do?"

"That depends on your objective. When testing a new drug, for example, you want the largest possible sampling of the population in order to formulate a reliable hypothesis."

Mirroring his position, Natasha slid her hand along the sofa back until their fingers touched and entwined. "You make a very compelling argument for the testing process, Dr. Banner."

"When conducting an experiment, there must be control of all variables so that only one variable is studied."

"_Fascinating_. Tell me more."

Enthusiasm for his subject, spilled out of him and Bruce nearly lost the original purpose of the conversation. "The independent variable is the one that's controlled and manipulated by the experimenter or experimenters, whereas the dependent variable is not. As the independent variable is manipulated, the dependent variable is measured for variation. Ideally, there should be a control group and an experi…"

Suddenly, Natasha lunged at him, one hand on the back of the sofa while the other was used for balance, pressing into the sofa cushion between them as she kissed him, their lips and fingers the only parts of their bodies touching. Nothing else. Bruce raised his hand slowly so as not to break the spell that had been woven around them and brushed a few strands of hair back over Natasha's ear.

She pulled back, barely an inch, to smile at him and he returned it as she tilted her head the other way and came in for another kiss, this one deeper though without any real demands from either of them. Bruce trailed his finger from behind Natasha's ear, down her neck and along her shoulder, feeling the roughness of her clothes in comparison to her smooth skin. A little further down and he gently squeezed her bicep.

The sound of the door opening barely registered until throat clearing forced them apart. They turned to see Clint standing with his feet shoulder width and his arms crossed, blue-gray eyes bouncing from Bruce to Natasha and back, stopping on Bruce. "Got a minute, Doc, or should I come back?"

~~O~~

Not hiding her annoyance, Natasha sat down, saying "Come back" at the same time Bruce said, "Yes, of course, Agent Barton."

Clint smiled apologetically at his partner. "Mind giving us the room, Nat?"

She got to her feet, glaring at Clint as she passed. At the door, she paused, giving Bruce a fond smile. "I'm gone for the night. We'll talk more about the scientific method tomorrow, doctor. I'll be late. Clint won't mind taking over."

With that parting shot, Natasha let herself out of the lab. She'd received a text earlier from Hill advising that she was being sent on an op that required her specific skill set. While she was gone, Clint would take over her duties. That would give her partner and Bruce time to talk behind her back. When she returned, she would to corner Clint and threaten him with any number of blackmail information to get him to spill his guts.

~~O~~

Clint wedged a chair into the corner next to the window that looked out onto the main hallway, sitting on the back with his feet in the seat, forearms resting on his thighs, the highest he could get without risking damage to the equipment. Moving only his eyes, Clint watched Banner return to whatever it was he did here, seeming not to notice that the archer had remained behind when Natasha left.

Banner rubbed his eyes and replaced his glasses. Picking up a tablet, he gave the impression of wandering aimlessly about the lab, stopping randomly to enter information first into the main computer then into the tablet. His meandering brought him near Clint's perch. Banner set the tablet on the edge of the console, took off his glasses and crossed his arms. "You didn't come here to watch me work, Agent Barton. Please say what's on your mind."

Jumping to his feet, Clint went around in front of Banner, taking up a similar position as the scientist. "Nat."

"I gathered as much. What specifically?"

Crossing his arms, Clint took the edge off his death glare so he wouldn't further antagonize the man. "What the two of you were doing when I came in."

Banner snorted without taking his eyes off his work. "You're asking my intentions."

Shrugging, Clint nodded. "Yeah. So?"

Going from one piece of equipment to the next, Banner began shutting everything down for the night. "Tasha's a big girl, and anything that happens between us is none of your business."

A small amount of anger bubbled to the surface. Clint clapped a lid on it, keeping his tone even and unruffled. "You're wrong. It _is_ my business as her friend and partner."

"Then you more than anyone should know how capable she is of taking care of herself in any situation. And before you enumerate all the unpleasant things you're gonna do to me if I break her heart, take a step back and rethink that strategy."

At his words, the antagonism Clint had suppressed a moment ago rushed through him, and he was just able to stop an outraged retort before it was spoken. Instead, he said, "Is that a threat, doctor?"

Banner slowly lifted his head to look Clint in the eye. "It's a reminder of what happened the last time I got angry. While it worked out well for us with the Chitauri, I doubt very much that we'd get the same results this time. So, I say this with the utmost concern for your safety, Agent Barton. Do _not_ make me angry."

Picking up his jacket, Banner put it on, flipping the collar out as he exited the room. Clint followed because, despite their conversation, Natasha had given him the duty of delivering the scientist into the hands of the next shift. They got into the elevator together, and a short time later, Clint formally handed Banner over to the night security team before heading home. On the way, he picked up Chinese and ate it in front of the television watching football and counting himself lucky not to have pissed Banner off.

~~O~~

Summer came to a close while Natasha was on an assignment that went south in a big way. The original plan was for her to be back within ten days. Circumstances changed so drastically that she didn't return home until near the end of October with injuries that kept her and Bruce from engaging in their favorite off-duty activity: having fun. While recuperating, on the days he couldn't be there, Bruce kept her entertained with books, puzzles, video games, DVDs, anything he could think of to keep her from dissolving into boredom.

During the second week of November, he helped her plan a small Thanksgiving dinner with a decidedly non-traditional menu made entirely of traditional Russian dishes. She invited Barton, Hill, and Fury.

December came around and it took all of Bruce's persuasive talents to convince Natasha to attend SHIELD's Christmas Party though Kwanza and Hanukah were equally celebrated. At the end of the night, she told him she had fun, gave him a decidedly non-platonic kiss, and sent him to bed with a squad of SHIELD agents for company.

Meditation, yoga, Pilates and Tai Chi had gained him greater control over his body's involuntary reactions. On the occasions he allowed their physical encounters to go beyond kissing, he was able to moderate his automatic responses and keep the Other Guy where he belonged: inside.

Natasha seemed to intuitively discern just how far they could go. Every couple of weeks, she would push the out a little farther. And because of it, Bruce began to think that he and Natasha could, one day in the future, have an intimate, physical relationship. _If_ that's what she wanted. It wasn't something they talked about and probably should.

The New Year came in quietly for Bruce who stayed the night at the compound instead of his apartment. Not so much for Natasha, who had been sent on another assignment. She returned the third week in January, and they went back to their daily routine.

During that time, Bruce counted down the days until his next trip to Calcutta. He made a visit once every couple of months. However, this time, he would have the privilege of bringing a new life into the world. One of his patients was due to deliver at the end of February and wanted Bruce to be there. He was honored and told them so. With SHIELD's resources to draw on, he was able to determine the health and gender of the child. The couple's first two children had died soon after childbirth. Now, the new parents were ecstatic to finally be able to bring a healthy baby into their family.

Bruce and Natasha now enjoyed a friendship built on shared experiences, and along with that, had become closer than he'd ever thought, considering the circumstances of their first meeting and the events that followed. And though he was out of practice when it came to dating and romantic gestures, he also knew that a woman like Natasha, for whom romance was a means to an end, small expressions of affection had the most impact.

For him, their friendship had begun to change into something more. And if it never went beyond what they had now, Bruce would count himself lucky to have known her. Most of their friendship building moments had been all day events that often ended with a kiss or two, and the occasional side trip to second base. Seldom more than that, mostly because Bruce would call a halt out of concern for her safety. Even if the chances of them ever being able to have a normal intimate physical relationship were slim, it didn't preclude them loving each other whether as friends, or as something much deeper.

To show Natasha just how much their relationship meant to him, he wanted to do something special. Nothing elaborate and certainly no expectations. Just the two of them spending an evening in each other's company without distractions. Dinner and dancing, because it was something they hadn't done before. He dialed Natasha's number and left a voicemail.

~~O~~

After hiding in the cargo hold of a Chinese freighter for days, Natasha was exhausted physically and mentally. It had been so long since she'd seen the sun, time had little meaning until her contact helped her get ashore when the freighter docked in New York Harbor. Dai had volunteered as one of the skeleton crew that would stay on board while the rest took twenty-four hours leave. While they were gone, Dai brought Natasha on deck and sent her ashore.

She caught a cab to the apartment she maintained in Alexandria, undressing as she went into the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing from the door to the ensuite that started with her boots and ended with a pair of satin bikini panties that had seen better days, as had the rest of her clothes. Leaving the lights off, she found the shower control by touch and turned it as hot as she could stand. A long soak in a bubble bath was preferable, but she didn't want to fall asleep there.

She towel dried her hair, but didn't bother with the rest. Tossing the damp terry cloth on the vanity chair, she pulled down the covers and slipped into bed. Sleep claimed her between one breath and the next.

When Natasha finally awoke, the sun was streaming through the windows. With her bladder screaming for attention, she threw aside the covers, the chill of the room a reminder that she hadn't dressed or set the thermostat before going to bed. She wrapped herself in a fluffy robe, attended to her body's physical needs then went to turn on the heat. While the apartment warmed up, Natasha turned on the computer and started the coffee.

Staring out the window at the city, she was glad to be home. The chimes from the church rang out a greeting. Then, her brow creased in thought. The chimes only rang before mass on Sunday, Wednesday and Saturday.

The computer beeped to announce it was ready for use. Natasha poured a cup of coffee, sipping as she returned to the desk in the corner of her bedroom. "Computer. Time and date."

_Seventeen thirty, Wednesday, February 14__th_

_You have twenty-seven voicemails and three hundred and four emails_

She'd boarded the ship on the sixth. If the date were correct, that meant Natasha had been on the freighter for eight days instead of the five she thought. She had also slept for more than twenty-four hours.

Part of her brain composed the report she would present to Hill, Fury and the Council while the rest worked on what to have for dinner. "Computer. Play voicemail messages, audio only."

She told the computer to hold the first few messages as they were unimportant. It was the fifth message that sent her to the closet for clothes.

"_Hey, it's Bruce. Just calling to invite you to dinner at Silver Tree on Fairfax and Tenth in Arlington. I've made a reservation on the fourteenth at eight. If you don't make it back in time, we can reschedule. Talk to you soon._"

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Many thanks to ladygris for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 6**

"Call Dr. Banner." The computer beeped to indicate that it had completed Natasha's command.

"_Banner._"

She smiled at his distracted tone. "It's Tasha. Is dinner still on?"

"_Is it Wednesday already?_" His voice was muffled as he spoke to someone, her relief or a member of his team, asking a question and getting an affirmative response.

"It is. I can meet you there."

Bruce came back on the line, the absent-mindedness gone from his voice. "_That works. The restaurant has a business dress code._"

"Business _casual_ or business _formal?_"

"_Suit and tie_."

Still searching her closet, she finally chose a form-fitting strapless green lace dress. "Got it. I'll be there."

"_See you at eight. And Tash?_" Lately, Bruce had been further shortening her name, and she found that she liked it. Clint still called her Nat, which she only tolerated. But something in how Bruce said "Tash" indicated a mysterious emotion that neither of them were in a hurry to explore.

"Yeah?"

There was a pause, as if he wasn't certain how to say what he wanted to say. Through the line, Natasha heard a small snort of exasperation. "_I missed you._"

Taking out a narrow black belt and black heels to match the layer beneath the green lace, Natasha set them on the foot of the bed then went to the dresser. "Missed you too."

She took out panties and matching strapless bra, adding a pair of sheer thigh high stockings and a black clutch to the pile. Her hair, dyed blonde for this last mission, was a tangled mess from going to bed with it wet. Easily solved by taking another shower.

An hour later, she put the finishing touch to her make-up by smoothing light pink gloss over her lips. Her hair floated around her shoulders in golden waves. She picked up the black clutch, took her black cashmere coat from the front hall closet, locked the door behind her and called for the lift. As she rode down to the ground floor, she put in a pair of gold filigree chandelier earrings and no other jewelry.

A cab was already waiting at the curb when she reached the first floor. The doorman put her in the back seat and closed the door. She arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early. Standing under the porte-cochère, she turned in a circle looking for Bruce. The maître d' approached her with an obsequious smile. "Good evening, Madam."

"We have a reservation for eight. Banner."

He consulted his old fashioned reservation book with everything still hand-written. "Ah yes. Your table isn't quite ready yet so Mr. Banner is waiting for you in the lounge."

"_Doctor_ Banner."

"My apologies, Madam." He signaled a young man who came forward to show her the way. Bruce got to his feet when he saw her, smiling a greeting.

The young man cleared his throat. "May I take your coat, Miss?"

"Of course." Natasha unbuttoned the front and Bruce slid the coat off her shoulders, holding it out to the attendant.

Holding the clutch at her side, Natasha faced Bruce with a smile, first presenting her cheek for a brief kiss. He wore a well-made navy blue suit. The shirt was crisply ironed, and a few shades lighter than his jacket. The tie was obviously silk, red with fine white pinstripes that matched the pocket square. As handsome as he was with his hair combed and his shoes shined, he'd look even more so in a vest, but that would've been overkill. "You clean up good."

~~O~~

Bruce held Natasha's chair and then retook the seat to her right. "So do you." She pursed her lips, though it did nothing to hide a smirk, making him realize what he'd just said. "Enchanting. I meant you look enchanting."

The grin turned into a pleased smile. "I was going for spectacular, but I'll take enchanting."

A server came around to take their orders. When he'd gone again, Bruce leaned back in his chair, turned sideways, one leg resting on the knee of the other. "I like the blonde."

"The asset for this mission prefers blondes." Natasha rolled her eyes upward. "After more than a week in the cargo hold of a freighter, it needs a touch-up. Or I could go back to the red."

He tilted his head to the side, examining her from different angles, and sipping from his glass of white wine. The blonde suited Natasha very well, though he preferred her natural color. "If you're asking my opinion, I would say please yourself because I'd like you even if it all fell out."

Natasha brought the glass to her lips letting a small amount of the white wine glide down her throat while watching him with that unblinking hazel stare. Bruce couldn't tell if she was being deliberately provocative, if it was left over from her mission or just the way she was on a date. She looked just as beautiful as always even with the tiny lines of weariness around her eyes. The time she spent hiding out had to have been physically exhausting. Her body needed time to recover, yet she had accepted his invitation to dinner. Why, when it would've been sensible for her to reschedule.

Then, Bruce it hit him. Today was February 14th, Valentine's Day. He hadn't had a reason to celebrate romantic love in a long time. Living day to day is more important than romance when you're afraid of getting close to anyone, be it physically or emotionally. It had been so long since Bruce had done anything even remotely amorous, he was certain he'd forgotten how, just like he'd forgotten the significance of the date.

Bruce looked up and the maître d's assistant let them know their table was ready with a nod. Picking up their glasses, they followed him into the dining room where they were shown to a table discreetly nestled in a corner not far from the dance floor where the band was setting up. The menus were already in place, and though the lighting was dim, there was still enough to read by. Bruce fished his glasses from his inside pocket and picked up the single page. It was limited though the dishes sounded interesting.

Their server, a young woman in a white tux shirt, bow tie and black pants came to the table. "Good evening. My name is Valerie and I'll be serving you today. Have you decided on an appetizer?"

Natasha set the menu aside, took her napkin from under the silverware and draped it over her lap. "The Silver Tree specialty greens with the vinaigrette on the side please. Bruce?"

"The classic Caesar for me." Valerie carried no pad to write down their orders. She merely nodded and faded into the background. Around them, couples held hands and gazed longingly into each other's eyes, again reminding Bruce of the minor faux pas. To correct it, he held out his hand, and Natasha placed hers in it. With a smile, he said, "She bath'd with roses red, and violets blew, And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew."

Natasha's eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. "Excuse me?"

Withdrawing his hand, Bruce picked up his wine glass. "A Valentine's Day poem to commemorate the day."

She exhaled and shook her head with a smile. "For a moment, I thought you'd gone insane. I didn't even realize the date." Saluting him with her glass, she replied, "_Da, ya muchayus' sladkikh zhelaniy, chto, kogda vy nakhodites' za granitsey, Vy budete vremya ot vremeni v taynom darovat' mne mysl'._ Now we're even."

"Tash, I asked you to dinner as a gesture of friendship. Not as a romantic overture."

"Understood. I've never celebrated myself."

Valerie returned with their order, setting the plates in front of them with a flourish. "Would you care for more wine or would you like to try one of our specialty drinks? A Mimosa or a Bloody Mary?"

They sent Valerie on her way with orders for two Mimosas, which were delivered quickly. The band began to play a tune that was probably meant to be soulful and romantic, but all it did for Bruce was make him drowsy. He looked over at Natasha, catching her covering a yawn. When their eyes met, she flashed him a sheepish smile. "It's not the company. Really."

"The music does have a soporific effect on the human nervous system." Bruce stabbed the last bite of his salad and chewed.

"If you're saying it makes you sleepy, I agree. Now I understand why Clint hates yoga music." She dabbed at her mouth with the napkin and returned it to her lap. "Bruce…"

The scientist was way ahead of her. "Burgers and beer?"

Apologetically, Natasha nodded. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I should've known better than to take dining advice from Tony." Bruce caught Valerie's eye and waved her over. "Could we have the check, please?"

Valerie's expression showed mild concern. "Is something wrong, Mr. Banner?"

Bruce started to answer, but was overrode by Natasha, her voice touched with mild annoyance. "Nothing's wrong with the food _or_ the service. _Doctor_ Banner has an emergency."

"Of course. I'll be right back." She was gone long enough for Natasha to finish her Mimosa and reapply lip gloss. "Everything's taken care of, Dr. Banner."

"By whom?" Bruce wanted to know. Natasha paused in the act of dropping the lip gloss tube into her purse to listen to the answer.

For the first time, Valerie seemed rattled. "Tony Stark. He told us to give you and your wife anything you wanted for your anniversary dinner."

Together, Bruce and Natasha exclaimed, "Wife?!"

Giving them a confused smile, Valerie backed away and was gone. Bruce put a hand over his mouth to keep from saying something he'd likely not regret later, but didn't want to say in front of Natasha. When he finally looked at her, she too had a hand over her mouth. For her it was to stop the laughter that threatened to escape forcing Bruce to see the humor too. "I don't know whether to kill him or thank him."

"Thank _then_ kill." Picking up her purse, Natasha got to her feet, holding out her hand. Bruce wrapped his fingers around hers and together they went to the exit after first retrieving their coats. He helped her on with hers while the valet sent for the car. In the driver's seat sat a brute of a man, obviously a SHIELD bodyguard.

Natasha went to the window and had a few words with the man. He got out, leaving the car running. She got behind the wheel and Bruce claimed shotgun, speaking while she pulled the seat forward and he fastened his seat belt. "They wouldn't let me leave the compound without a guard."

"SOP. It's important for you to have someone as a buffer when you're in public."

"I understand the _need_. It's frustrating to have someone follow you everywhere, even to the bathroom. Told Hill I was going on a date and didn't want or need a chaperone, but she wouldn't back down. Gave me that cold stare." He shuddered dramatically.

In the darkness of the car's interior, Bruce could only see part of one side of Natasha's face. Just enough to tell she was smiling ruefully. It showed in her voice as well. "Being able to do the death glare is a pre-requisite for working in SHIELD upper management, and Hill learned it from Coulson."

A sliver of guilt temporarily halted Bruce's sociable mood, and for a moment, he wasn't sure what to say. Natasha could spot a lie from across the room making him apprehensive about responding. He hated knowing things his friends didn't, and hoped Natasha wouldn't ask him pointed questions he would have to refuse to answer. In Bruce's experience, the phrase, "I can't confirm or deny" likely meant it was true.

He was saved from responding when Natasha slammed on the brakes, buzzed the window down and shouted at the other driver, "_Gehen schneller, Arschloch! Ich muss gehen Schuhe kaufen!_"

The man made a quick right turn and took off. When she looked over at him, Bruce lost it, laughing until he could barely breathe. Natasha kept driving until they reached a bar advertising live entertainment for Valentine's Day. Bruce had doubts about the talents of the band as it was almost nine in the evening and there were only about a dozen cars, trucks and motorcycles in the lot.

Bruce wiped his eyes as the engine shut down. "The look on his face. He may have wet himself."

Unhooking her seatbelt, Natasha showed him a half-smile. "He got out of the way, didn't he?"

"What did you say?"

"Go faster, a*****e! I must go buy shoes!"

Bruce chuckled while Natasha cruised the parking lot and pulled into a space. She didn't wait for him to open her door to get out, meeting him at the rear of the vehicle, a fuel-efficient hybrid. She opened the trunk, rooting around until she found a duffle bag.

"You can't take weapons into the bar."

Without turning, she ignored his remark about weapons. "I brought clothes in case I needed to change."

"Change?"

Kicking off her heels, she dropped them into the bag, taking out a pair of flats that looked like ballet shoes. She unbuttoned her coat, and even though he didn't know what she had in mind, Bruce obediently helped her off with it, holding it while she pulled out a red satin top and a pair of black pants.

Reaching up under the hem of her dress, she rolled down the thigh high stockings and pulled them off. Her left arm bent behind her back. Hearing the unmistakable sound of a zipper, Bruce immediately turned his back with an embarrassed, "Oh."

"You've watched a woman undress before, Bruce."

The wry humor in her voice only served to further embarrass him. "I've never watched _you_ undress."

The rustle of clothing told him that Natasha had shimmied out of her dress and had replaced it with the clothes she'd taken from the bag. He faced her again when she tugged at the coat he still held. She shoved her arms in, flipped her hair out and reached up to remove his tie and unbutton the top button of his shirt. Using her left hand, she mussed his hair then, she clasped his hand, and a cheeky grin flowed over her features. "We'll have to change that someday."

Again, he was saved from formulating a response, this time by another car pulling into the lot. Its headlights flashed over them leaving an afterimage on his retinas. It faded quickly as they headed for the front door.

~~O~~

In spite of how few cars were in the lot, the bar was filled with light and noise. Some of it masquerading as live music from the band on the stage. Thankfully, it wasn't a country western bar or Bruce would've insisted they go somewhere else. The group on stage brought a popular eighties ballad to an energetic conclusion as Bruce and Natasha found an unoccupied table. Natasha took off her coat and hung it over the back of the extra chair as a server arrived.

The young woman wore a T-shirt with the bar's logo, jeans that were too tight, and her brown hair back in an unflattering ponytail. All while she waited for them to order, she snapped and chewed a wad of gum. Natasha smiled and looked at Bruce with a short nod asking him to order.

"Two light beers, please. Whatever's on tap," Bruce told the server with a smile. She grunted in response, placed two menus on the table, and walked away. The beers were delivered, again without comment. Natasha set the menu aside prompting Bruce to ask, "Not ordering anything?"

"Maybe later. We could play pool, darts, or air hockey first." Bruce leaned back in his seat, seeming totally relaxed, but Natasha knew it was a pretense. No matter what his body language, his eyes told another story. In public, there was a greater risk of running into a situation that could cause him to get angry. That's why she was here, and more importantly, because she wanted to spend time with him. Over the months, Bruce's friendship had become essential to her. She valued the camaraderie they shared as much as that of Clint, Hill and Fury. There was still a void where Coulson used to be, but she'd come to terms with it, and it was all due to Bruce's influence. He'd offered her a no-strings friendship even knowing what she was capable of, and the darkness in her soul. None of that mattered to him, and strange as it seemed, because of that steadfast confidence, the amount of red gushing from her ledger had slowed to a drip.

Tonight was about celebrating the affection they had for each other as friends, not as a precursor to a night of passionate love making, and verbal expressions of love. Natasha greatly appreciated the effort Bruce put into planning their evening. It wasn't his fault she was too tired to enjoy it. She wrapped her fingers around his much larger hand. "Or we could just hold hands and listen to the music."

"Anything you want."

The band announced they were taking a break and left the stage to be replaced by canned music. Bruce sat there watching the couples slowly swaying to the beat, lost in thought. Natasha gave his hand a squeeze to get his attention. "You should ask me to dance."

He smiled and stood, extending that same hand. "Would you care to dance?"

"I would."

On the dance floor, Natasha went into Bruce's arms making sure to maintain a respectful distance. The song, _Daniel_ by Elton John, though excellent for slow dancing, wasn't exactly a love ballad, but it served their purpose.

When Natasha danced with Clint as part of their cover on a mission, he hummed or sang along because he knew it irritated her. Bruce on the other hand, didn't. All she could hear was the soft susurrations of his breathing, the rustle of their clothing, and the music.

When the song ended, Bruce leaned Natasha back in a shallow dip and brought her upright again. He kept hold of her hand as they returned to their table. Natasha signaled and two more beers were set in front of them. She took a swallow, glancing around the room. "Darts or pool?"

Resting his left arm on the table, Bruce turned his glass, leaving wet marks on the coaster. "I have a doctorate in physics. Sure you wanna play against someone you haven't a chance in hell of beating?"

Natasha got to her feet, one hand on the table as she leaned close to whisper a challenge. "I never lose. But if you don't mind having your ass handed to you by a woman…"

Bruce picked up the beers, gesturing toward the pool tables. "You can even break."

~~O~~

While Bruce set up the table, Natasha chalked her cue. Her head was bent, concentrating on the task as if she was preparing to perform surgery, and in a way, she was. The Black Widow was about to separate Bruce from his ego, though he was confident in his ability to make her work hard for the win. Since that first day in the park, Bruce played to win, no matter what the game. Sure, most of the time he lost, but winning wasn't the point. The most important thing was that they had fun together.

He stepped out of the way to watch Natasha set up her first shot. She bent at the waist, the black pants tightening over her backside drawing the attention of several men. Their wives and girlfriends gave them hell, but the ogling didn't stop. They just got better at hiding it. Bruce grinned with unsuppressed smugness that such a beautiful woman had consented to having dinner with him while ignoring them.

The older man who had been cleaning tables and stocking the bar sidled up to Bruce, arms crossed, watching Natasha shoot. "Ya know, it's none o' my business, but if she were _my_ woman, I'd slug those guys for what they're thinkin'."

Shifting his feet, Bruce slanted a look at the man. "I appreciate your concern. However, you've made couple of false assumptions that I'd like to correct. One, she's quite capable of defending herself, better than _I_ could. And two, she doesn't belong to _anyone_. She's her own woman. And we're just friends."

His companion nodded, turning Bruce's words over in his head. The bartender waved and the man nodded to indicate he'd be right there. He clapped a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Then she don't know you're in love with her, does she?"

Before Bruce could deny the shocking statement, the man had gone into the back room. A glass appeared in front of him and he took it, draining the last of the beer. Narrowing her eyes, Natasha pointed her chin. "Friend of yours?"

"What? No. He was simply expressing his admiration for your technique. My turn?"

"Yes. Don't get used to it though."

Smiling absently, Bruce set up his shot and made a few practice swings before knocking the cue ball into a grouping of three, two of which dropped into the side pocket, one after the other. He circled the table, working out his next shot. He was preparing to knock the color off a couple of balls when the sound of a rig's air horn blasted over the music followed by squealing tires and the metal on metal screech of a collision.

**TBC**

**A/N: **"Daniel" is a ballad released by Elton John in 1973, written by Elton John and Bernie Taupin.

The origins of the poem Bruce recites to Natasha may be traced as far back as to the following lines written in 1590 by Sir Edmund Spenser from his epic _The Faerie Queene _(Book Three, Canto 6, Stanza 6):

It was upon a Sommers shynie day,

When Titan faire his beames did display,

In a fresh fountaine, farre from all mens vew,

She bath'd her brest, the boyling heat t'allay;

She bath'd with roses red, and violets blew,

And all the sweetest flowres, that in the forrest grew.

The poem that Natasha recites is a verse from the Russian love poem _Love, Like a Bird, is Free,_ written by Alexander Blok in 1914. The translation into Russian came from Google Translate and may not be grammatically correct:

Yes, I am tormented by sweet longings,

That, when you are abroad,

You will from time to time in secret

Bestow on me a thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Many thanks to ladygris for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 7**

Bruce dropped the pool cue and raced out the front door one step behind Natasha. By the time they reached the parking lot, nearly all the bar patrons, as well as those from nearby businesses had gathered. Cars pulled over, the drivers and passengers milling around, merging with the rest of the crowd. Nearly half were on their cells making calls and recording video to post to social media sites.

The tractor trailer was on its side, the front end tangled with a mid-sized sedan, a pool of liquid spreading around the vehicles. From this distance, Bruce couldn't tell if it was water or fuel. The engine of the car started smoking signaling an impending explosion, and through the smoke, Bruce saw movement.

"I'm a doctor. Out of the way!" Bruce pushed through the onlookers, bursting into the open and running for the wreck, falling to his knees in front of the shattered windshield. He reached through the opening to grasp the wrist of the unconscious man. Hope swelled when he felt a faint pulse.

The engine burst into flames, brightening the night sky with an orange glow. The smoke thickened, billowing into the air to be blown around by the wind. The whine of sirens announced the arrival of the first responders just as Natasha and the older came running to his side. Coughing, they grabbed his arms, dragging him out of the way as several police cars skidded to a stop, their lights flashing red and blue in a pattern that gave him a headache.

Quickly surveying the scene, the officers waved at the crowd. "Get back! Everyone get back! It's gonna blow!"

~~O~~

"No!"

Natasha inwardly winced at the level of anger and misery in that one word, wishing she hadn't been an indirect cause. Bruce finally stopped struggling, and they released him. With anyone else, it would mean they had accepted that there was no way to help those trapped in the wreckage. For Bruce, the situation carried a more dangerous aspect when the rig exploded with a deep, ear-popping ba-_boom_. The sound rumbled through the area. A second, smaller boom came after it when the car's gas tank went up. There were screams from the on-lookers as debris rained down sending them scurrying for cover.

Bruce moaned, his breathing interspersed with grunts and groans, as if he were experiencing sharp pains. It reminded Natasha of the helicarrier just before his transformation. Bending at the waist, he clutched his head, moaning deep in his throat. He fell to his knees with Natasha beside him. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist above the heart monitor still broadcasting its warning. Bruce jerked away from her touch, glancing at her and away, enough for her to see that his brown eyes had turned green. His lightly tanned skin took on a grayish-green hue. Fear tried to come in, but Natasha refused to allow it to stay. Keeping hold of Bruce, she pressed close to his body, curling an arm around his neck, offering comfort.

Several of the officers and paramedics called out, asking if he was hurt. She shook her head and waved them away. The men stopped, but didn't retreat, watching the scene with curious fascination.

In a calm voice, Natasha whispered, "_Breathe_, Bruce. Feel the air entering and leaving your lungs, your muscles relaxing as the anger diminishes, leaving no part of itself behind. Inhale…exhale…

"Think of a happy place, Bruce. Where do you feel most comfortable? What makes you happy? What do you enjoy doing the most? Where do you want to be right now? Think of that place as you slowly inhale…and exhale. Keep breathing.

"Is there someone that makes you happy? That you care about?"

Bruce nodded once, the muscles of his back becoming less taut as his hands slowly came away from his face, lowering to rest on the tops of his thighs above the knees. Eyes closed, he continued to breathe in a slow, even cadence.

"Good. Think of that person, and imagine that he or she is with you now, touching your face," Natasha brushed fingertips over his cheek, "sharing their strength and energy, their life force with you."

Keeping hold of him, Natasha's free hand swept the hair from his forehead, moving down under his chin. At her urging, he slowly lifted his head, their eyes meeting. With relief, she noted that his eyes and skin had regained their normal coloring. "Better?"

Again, Bruce nodded. Natasha stood, and he came up with her. "Stay still and keep breathing. I'll be right back."

She turned away, and he called out to her. "Natasha?"

"Yeah?" she said over her shoulder.

There was a short pause. "Thanks."

~~O~~

Listening to the crunch of Natasha's shoes on the gravel at the edge of the roadway, Bruce continued breathing as she'd instructed him, one hand rubbing his forehead. When he felt he could do so without getting angry or upset, he turned in the direction of the crash. Firemen doused the flames with streams of water from several directions while the police cordoned off the area and rerouted traffic. A helicopter circled overhead, the downdraft helping keep the air free of smoke.

The hoses shut off, and one of the firemen used a tool to knock away what was left of the shattered windshield. Crouching, he ducked his head inside and came out again holding up one finger. Bruce hoped that meant there had only been one person in the car, hopefully keeping the number of deaths at two.

What would Natasha say if she knew the vision he'd used to quiet his mind and stop the transformation had been her? Did it matter as long as he was able to stop it? Fatigue nipped at his brain. It appeared that even a partial transformation depleted his energy reserves. The salad he'd eaten wasn't nearly enough to refuel his body. He needed to eat and soon.

Covering a yawn by rubbing his head and turning away, he cast a quick glance at the crowd. Natasha wouldn't be fooled. She was seldom surprised by anything. Bruce liked that about her. In fact, he liked everything about her, and it reminded him of the conversation he had with the old man.

When Natasha and the old man stopped him, he knew what would happen, but did nothing to distance himself from the others. He'd _wanted_ to change because as the Other Guy, he would've been able to come away from an explosion relatively unscathed and maybe saved at least one of the drivers. He should be upset that they hadn't allowed him to do so, but he wasn't, or not as much as he should be. Death wasn't as big a specter in his life as it was for the general population, though many times in the past he'd wanted to die. If his Hulk body could withstand the combined firepower of more than twenty Chitauri soldiers then how could he think a single bullet would do the trick?

_Forsan miseros meliora sequentur_. For those in misery, perhaps better things will follow. Bruce sure hoped so because the only way it could've been worse was if the Other Guy had succeeded in coming out. The death toll would've climbed above two and included the destruction of public and private property. Nothing on the scale of New York or Harlem though. _Thank God for small favors._

A small, warm hand enfolded itself around his. Without looking, Bruce knew it was Natasha. Often, after a transformation, one or more of his senses would be hypersensitive making the inevitable headache even worse. The throbbing behind his eyes wasn't as bad as in the past, and for that he was thankful, especially to Natasha. Without her reassuring presence, the governor would've already called out the National Guard who would be helpless against the Other Guy. That had been proven time and again, yet the Powers That Be never seemed to learn. They continued to look for a military answer for a non-military situation. The concept of allowing the circumstances to work themselves out i.e. leave the Other Guy alone until he stopped being angry, was completely foreign to them, and they'd paid the price in the loss of life and property.

"Let's get out of here before the cops realize that Serenity Reynolds doesn't exist." Bruce walked beside Natasha as the grill's patrons headed back inside. She released his hand and a moment later, her slender arm looped around his waist, his arm came up to drape around her shoulders. As they neared the entrance, he slowed to a stop, reluctant to rejoin the crowd. His stomach growled making Natasha smile. "Hungry?"

"The Other Guy's a little peckish. On the other hand, I'm starving."

She snorted a laugh, her hand tightening briefly where it rested above the waistband of his pants. "Let's go to my place and order in. Anything you want. Then, I'll take you home."

The band started playing again. A tune he recognized from the early nineties. Not his favorite song though it had been very popular. Bruce turned to face Natasha, his hands lightly holding her upper arms. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't want to go back to my apartment. Not alone."

"You can stay with me." Shaking his head, Bruce was tempted to take her in his arms again. He opened his mouth to say that a hotel would be fine. Natasha stopped him with a finger to his lips. "I can protect you easier at my place. It has all the bells and whistles."

Knowing that it was useless to resist, Bruce gave in gracefully and got into the car while Natasha retrieved their coats from the bar.

They'd only been traveling for a few minutes when his eyelids drooped, and he fell asleep.

Bruce awoke with a start when the car came to a stop and the engine shut off. Natasha got out and by the time he'd sorted himself out, she was at his door carrying the bag from the trunk and a sack bearing the logo of a fast food burger chain. Yawning, he shuffled along behind her into the elevator, out again on her floor and into the apartment. He kept going until he reached the bathroom. While in there, he splashed cold water on his face and dried with a hand towel.

To Bruce, his eyes looked dull, his movements listless. A transformation took so much out of him that he would eat, sleep-sometimes for up to twenty-four hours-get up, eat enough to feed a family of four and sleep some more. The change had only just begun before he was able, with Natasha's help, to prevent it. Still, his energy reserves were exhausted. The nap in the car helped, and so would the food Natasha had picked up at the drive-thru. However, it would be at least another day before he felt anything close to normal. He certainly wouldn't be effective in the lab. He would sleep here and in the morning, head for home.

Fishing in his breast pocket, Bruce took out his phone, tapped a message and sent it off to his assistant, Hill and Fury to let them know he was taking the next couple of days off and that Natasha would see to his safety for the night. For now, he thought it prudent not to mention the incident at the bar.

The smell of food made his stomach grumble. Pushing a hand through his hair to make it lay down, he yawned again, flicked out the light and joined Natasha in the dining room. She'd set the table as if it were a gourmet meal, plates, silverware, cloth napkins. Packets of ketchup had a place in the center of the table next to Dijon mustard, chipotle ranch and bleu cheese dressings and barbeque sauce.

Natasha poured two cups of coffee and carried them to the table, setting one in front of each place before taking a seat to his left at the end of the table and flashing him a smile. She picked up her sandwich and took a bite. His meal consisted of two double burgers, an order of fries and an apple pie. All calorie-intensive items to help replenish what he'd lost. After a full hulk-out as Stark called it, Bruce would need to consume at least twice this amount. Natasha had gone with the healthier alternatives of spicy chicken sandwich and apple slices.

Bruce draped the napkin over his lap, poured some of the ranch dressing on the plate for dipping the fries, picked up one of the sandwiches and took a huge bite. His stomach was in mid-grumble, and he nearly threw up, barely quashing the urge. Natasha, ever observant, went into the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. He gratefully accepted, taking a few cautious sips. And that was another facet of her personality he admired, her ability read people without seeming to do so. As if the response she made were her idea and not predicated on something he'd done. She instinctively knew what others needed and acted accordingly. Right now, he needed peace and quiet, and she obliged his need by letting her serene presence speak for itself.

When they finished eating, Bruce carried their dishes to the kitchen and threw out the wrappers. Natasha's trash can was full so he took the bag out, tied it closed and walked it down to the trash chute at the end of the hall. Taking her duty as his protector seriously, he knew she watched from the doorway. However, when he returned, she was in front of the television perusing the titles of several Blue-Rays. She chose one, dropped it into the player and made herself comfortable on the sofa with her legs tucked under, remote in hand.

Bruce sat next to her leaving a generous space between them, and while the opening credits played, he thought about what the old man from the bar had said. He cared very much for Natasha, even loved her as a friend, but was he _in love_ with her? Life experiences had taught him that one did not automatically follow the other. It also didn't mean it couldn't or wouldn't. So Bruce asked himself that eternal question: How do you know?

Covering a yawn, Bruce crossed his arms and turned his attention to the movie.

~~O~~

A soft snore announced to Natasha that Bruce had fallen asleep. Not that she was surprised. She placed a pillow at the end of the sofa, and with gentle pokes and prods, urged him to lie down. A click of the remote shut off the television, and then she stood and watched him sleep for just a moment. When the moment ended, she washed the dishes and left only the one light over the sink burning.

After changing into her pajamas, she grabbed the folded quilt from the foot of her bed to cover Bruce with. He'd wrapped his arms around himself and drew his knees up in the defensive position he'd slept in that first night. He began mumbling in his sleep, and whatever the dream, from the look on his face, it couldn't have been good. Crouching beside the sofa, she stroked his hair and sang the same lullaby, pleased when he relaxed and uncurled. She stood, reaching for the quilt, stopping with her arm extended when he grabbed her hand and wouldn't let go. Resigned, she eased down next to him, turning on her side so they were spooning, using her free hand to cover them with the quilt.

~~O~~

Bruce came awake slowly, a little at a time, drifting up from the depths of sleep. He became aware of sounds first. Leaves rustling in the breeze, car horns and the far off screech of sirens.

The rough texture of the sofa came next. He was on his left side, one of the decorative pillows scrunched under his head. The room itself was cool, though Bruce barely felt it because of the warmth pressed against his chest. Had Natasha covered him with a blanket before going to bed? It would've been just like her to be concerned for his welfare. He tried to sit up, but was unable to because, contrary to his last assumption, he wasn't curled up with a blanket to keep him warm.

Opening his eyes, the back of Natasha's head blocked his view. Bruce slowly rose up on one elbow, lifted a leg up and over Natasha's hip, pushing up onto his other knee. Moving his hand to the back of the sofa, he was able to put his other foot on the floor without waking Natasha. And finally, the other foot joined the first. A quilt was on the floor. He picked it up and tossed it in the armchair.

Padding down the hall to the bathroom in his stocking feet, Bruce attended to the needs of his body, and just as quietly, went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

Opening the refrigerator, he took out the ingredients for making breakfast, looking at the carton of egg substitute with misgiving. He cut up onions, bell peppers, tomatoes and mushrooms, adding them to the skillet and the heated olive oil. While the vegetables sautéed, he cut up a chunk of cheddar cheese, adding it to the bowl with the eggs and spices. He poured the mixture over the vegetables to make an omelet big enough to share.

The creak of the sofa told Bruce that Natasha was awake. She went into the bedroom and closed the door. A few minutes later, he heard the toilet flush and water running in the sink. Soon, that shut off and she appeared at his side in her pjs with her hair sleep tousled, greeting him with a drowsy smile. He was glad she felt comfortable enough with him to allow herself to sleep in his presence and be seen without make-up. Not that she needed it.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

Natasha poked him on the arm. "You should talk. You fell asleep during the movie."

Bruce liked the husky warmth in her voice first thing in the morning. Somehow, though she didn't offer a good morning kiss, it gave their mundane conversation a cozy, intimate quality, as if they were more to each other than friends.

And that thought brought him around to the unanswered question from last night. Was he in love with her? How would she feel if he was? Should he ignore those feelings and go on as if nothing had changed, or tell her and risk being disappointed that she only cared as a friend? By her words and actions, she'd let him know that an intimate physical relationship would be acceptable, if there were a way for it to happen without the unique risks. But did that mean love or just lust?

Suspending reality for the moment, Bruce mentally listed the perils of sex for the general public. There was no danger of sexually transmitted diseases because he hadn't been with a woman in years. From what he'd read in Natasha's file, the enhancements to her physiology meant that she was immune.

Pregnancy wasn't a consideration because the overdose of gamma radiation had taken care of that for him. His body still produced sperm, but the number was way below normal, deformed and non-motile. That meant no children for him. Not that he'd considered the possibility even before the accident. With his family history, he didn't believe it to be a viable option.

The closing of a cabinet brought his thoughts back to the present. Using the edge of the spatula, he cut the omelet down the middle, scooping half onto each of the plates Natasha held out. The toast popped, and he set the skillet on the back of the stove to transfer the lightly browned bread to a small plate.

In the dining room, the table had been set and the coffee poured. As he spread butter on a slice of toast, Bruce's mind dredged up a memory from before his mother had died. His father worked long hours, seldom joining them for meals. In Dad's absence, he and his mother said grace before eating.

It got him to wondering about Natasha's opinion on the existence of God. Whatever her beliefs were, Bruce considered it unimportant to their relationship. He himself believed in an almighty being, but that he wasn't active in everyone's life. Why else was there so much suffering in the world? If God had been present, why had He allowed the accident to turn Bruce into the Other Guy? Or was it God's hand that had saved him when he should've died?

"Jam?"

Startled, he stared stupidly at the jar Natasha held out. "Sorry?"

She smiled indulgently. "Would you like jam on your toast?" He finally understood her meaning, nodding with a smile. Natasha spread the deep purple preserves over the toast then used the same knife to cut it corner to corner, all the while watching him with amusement. "That's the second time you've spaced out this morning."

He bit off a piece of toast and chewed to give himself time to think up a plausible explanation, but nothing came to him, so he lied. "It can take a few days for everything to sort itself out after…"

Natasha's look of understanding and quick squeeze of his hand warmed him.

"I had a fun-filled day all planned. We can save it for another time and just hang out, if you like."

Bruce was tempted to go along with their original plans, but this was for both their benefit, and he had to admit he wasn't quite up to it. And that gave him an idea for what to do that wouldn't be physically or mentally taxing on either of them.

After breakfast, Natasha showered and changed then they drove to Bruce's apartment so he could do the same. Before long, they arrived at their destination and had talked their way into the cat room at the local shelter where they spent the next couple of hours playing with the cats and kittens waiting to be adopted. One cat, by the name of Theo, an orange tabby with a white splash across his chest and weighing upwards of fifteen pounds, seemed especially fond of him. Bruce considered taking him home, but in the end, didn't because his work schedule was such that he wouldn't be able to spend as much time with the animal as he deserved. Plus there was the Other Guy to consider.

They left the shelter covered in cat fur of all colors and lengths, laughing at the antics of the cats and kittens. On the way to the park for a stroll, they stopped for steaming cups of hot cocoa with extra whipped cream, sipping as they walked and enjoyed each other's company.

The next day, Bruce and Natasha were back at work as if nothing had happened. On the drive to the compound, they had talked it over and decided not to mention the incident at the bar.

Two weeks later, Bruce left for Calcutta to deliver the baby, and it all went like clockwork. The baby was healthy and thriving when Bruce returned to the U.S. This time, he'd been gone for an entire month because once word had gotten around that he was in town, many of his former patients had flocked to see him. He'd gotten more invitations to dinner than he could possibly accept, and told them so. Those he'd turned down, he promised to dine with upon his return.

Tired from the long flight, Bruce let himself into the apartment, his escorts standing watch at the front and back doors. He tossed his keys and wallet on the entertainment center absently noticing that there were marks in the dust.

Carrying his duffle bag into the bedroom, Bruce set it on the bed on his way to the bathroom. When he came out, he was confronted by a strange sight. Theo, the cat from the shelter, was sitting on the bed sniffing the duffle bag as if it held the secrets of the universe. Propped against one of the pillows was an envelope. Inside, there was a note in Natasha's handwriting.

_Bruce,_

_Now that you're going to be my human, we should set some ground rules._

_I must be fed twice a day, dry food in the morning, canned food at night, and tuna in water at least four times a week. Treats are to be given every day at random times of my choosing._

_There must always be clean, fresh water available with no bugs or hairballs floating in it. If I find something in my water, I will let you know loudly and at three in the morning._

_I will sleep on the bed and graciously allow you to share it with me. The same with everything else._

_When you purchase tinkle balls, I will ignore them in favor of playing with the wrappers and the bag they were brought home in, unless it's the middle of the night. Then, I will bat the tinkle ball all over the floor until you've been awakened, especially if you have to work in the morning._

_You will keep my litter box clean at all times or suffer the consequences._

_In return, I promise to provide you with companionship, frequent head-boops, purring and comfort when you're feeling blue._

_Regards,_

_Theo_

_P.S. Thank you for rescuing me from the shelter. I had been there for a long time because no one wanted an older cat._

_T._

**TBC**

**A/N: **_Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who!_ is a 2008 American computer-animated film based on the Dr. Seuss book of the same name.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Many thanks to ladygris for the Beta.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 8**

There was a plaintive meow and a fuzzy paw reached out to touch Bruce on the hand. The cat looked up at him with what almost seemed like desperation. Did Theo know how close he'd come to being euthanized? Bruce hoped not.

Obediently, Bruce gave the cat what he wanted and Theo rewarded the head rub with a loud purr. "Welcome to your new home, pal." Bruce tossed the note on the bedside table. "You hungry? Let's see what's for dinner."

Bruce headed toward the kitchen with Theo trotting at his side. On the counter he found a ten-pound bag of dry food, at least a dozen cans in different flavors, and cans of tuna. "There's plenty for you. I'll probably have to order out though."

On a hunch, he opened the freezer and found it filled with frozen dinners of all kinds, all super-sized making Bruce chuckle. "Natasha's looking out for both of us, it seems."

He chose a meal at random and stuck it in the microwave. While that was working, he opened one of the cans of cat food and dumped it into a ceramic dish with paw prints all over the sides. When the microwave dinged, he carried both meals to the dining room table. He started to set Theo's bowl on the floor, but the cat jumped into the chair to the left of his, waiting expectantly. With a smile, Bruce gave in and set his bowl in front of him. Theo put his paws on the edge of the table and began eating. Bruce chewed a bite and swallowed, reflecting that it was nice to have company for dinner that wasn't armed, and that simply needed food, water, companionship, and pat the occasional ear or belly rub.

The cat finished eating, his tongue licking up every last morsel before turning his intense green gaze on Bruce again, sitting with his tail curled around his paws, just the end twitching while he washed his face.

Bruce disposed of the trash, gave Theo fresh water and went to take a shower, letting the hot water flow over his tired achy body for a while before washing his body and hair. He shut the water off and reached for a towel to dry his face and hair then wrapped another towel around his waist. He pulled back the curtain to find Theo sitting in the middle of the bath mat patiently waiting. Bruce stepped out, the cat dancing back out of the way when drops of water hit him on the back and face. Sitting down, he used a paw to clean his face giving Bruce the idea that the cat thought he'd done it on purpose. "That's what you get for following me into the bathroom, pal."

In the bedroom, Bruce took out sleep pants and a T-shirt, and Theo watched him get dressed then stood in the doorway while Bruce brushed and flossed. By this time, the long flight from Calcutta caught up with Bruce, who was ready to fall asleep standing up. He lifted the covers and crawled underneath, and switched off the lamp. He was about to drop off when he felt Theo jump up on the bed and walk along the edge until he could lay down in front of Bruce's stomach. Bruce brushed a hand down the cat's side making him purr. In a few minutes, human and cat were asleep.

~~O~~

In a secret base somewhere in New York City, a man sat in room crammed with electronic equipment. One very large monitor took up and entire wall. Live video feeds filled the screen each showing a different scene of people going about their lives, none of them knowing they were being watched.

The man, average height, weight and looks, didn't turn around when he was joined by a woman in a dark suit. She loved to micro-manage. He'd learned to ignore it and just answer her questions.

"Anything on Banner yet?"

"No. Hasn't been back to his apartment in nearly a week. Even the cat's gone." He took a sip from a disposable cup without taking his eyes from the screen, taking in every scene with a glance. "Our contact at the compound says Banner never takes work home with him, and from what I've seen, she's right. He goes home, feeds the cat, eats dinner, watches a game on TV then goes to bed. Except when Romanoff's in town. That's when it gets interesting."

"Seriously? You get your jollies by watching live porn?"

He chuckled. "That's just it. They don't have sex. It's just kissing, a little…" he made an obscene gesture with his hands, "…touchy-touchy, and that's it. The interesting part is when he starts to turn into the Hulk."

The woman's face puckered in confusion making her look years older, like a pasty white prune. "There have been no reports of a hulk-out."

"He's managed to stop it each time. Too bad I can't post to YouTube. It would go viral in an hour."

"Just keep your mind on work and stay off of the social media sites." She stared at the bottom left screen showing the empty living room of Dr. Bruce Banner's apartment. "Hail HYDRA."

His attention captured by one of the videos, the man responded absently, "Yeah. Yeah. Hail HYDRA."

**Two Weeks Later**

The sun was just going down turning the sky bright yellow, transitioning to a deep red at the edge of the horizon reminding Bruce of a Tequila Sunrise. He hadn't had one since medical school, and wondered if they were still as good as he remembered. Tomorrow was his weekly skip day. Like the weeks prior, he and Theo would be spending it alone, just the two of them. And his SHIELD escorts, of course. Natasha had been out of the country for nearly a month, and though he missed her, having Theo made her absence easier to bear.

Sitting on the sofa with the cat in his lap, Bruce flipped through the channels looking for something to hold his interest. There was a basketball game that looked promising until he saw that his team was losing by a very wide margin. He decided to go down to the sports bar a few blocks away to share his misery with others. Maybe he'd have tequila instead of beer.

Theo meowed in annoyance when Bruce set him off his lap so he could put on his sneakers. Voices in the hall caught his attention just before someone knocked. His guest had to be on a list or the guards wouldn't have allowed anyone near.

Bruce held Theo in his arms as he opened the door to see Natasha standing there. Her face lit up with a big smile, and Bruce felt a small thrill that she was as excited to see him as he was to see her.

Before he could greet her, she exclaimed, "I've missed you so much, _moy malen'kiy kotenok._"

It was on the tip of his tongue to echo her sentiment when she took Theo from his arms, cuddling him close and whispering softly to the cat. She stepped past Bruce into the apartment without invitation. "Have you been a good boy while Tasha was gone?"

The cat meowed as if he understood, making Bruce chuckle as he scratched Theo's ears. "_Him_ you miss, but not me? I'm crushed."

After giving Theo one last nuzzle, she put him down and rose up on her toes to brush a brief kiss over Bruce's cheek. "I missed you too, _dorogaya moya_."

"You're back early for a change."

"Plan A worked," swiping the remote from the coffee table, Natasha shut off the television, "this time. You hungry?"

Bruce shrugged and nodded. "I was about to head down to the sports bar on Lincoln." He walked to the window and Natasha followed.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Alcohol is a great comfort when your team's losing yet again."

Natasha gave him a sympathetic smile. "Poor thing. Let's go. I'll buy the first round." In the hall, she had a few words with the guards.

The bar was only a few blocks so they decided to walk. Slanting a quick glance at her, Bruce wondered what was going through her mind. Usually, they held hands while walking or she wrapped her fingers around his arm just above the elbow, the warmth seeping through the material of his shirt. Just before this last mission, she stopped doing either, choosing instead to let her arms swing, shoving them into her pockets or clasping them behind her back. And now that he was thinking back, he realized it started shortly after their abortive dinner date. That's also when she began kissing him on the cheek instead of the lips. He missed the closeness they used to share with no idea how to get back to it. Time to start communicating. "Natasha…"

"Oh dear."

Her response genuinely confused Bruce. "What?"

She smiled knowingly. "You only call me Natasha when it's serious."

Their steps were a slow, leisurely stroll, Natasha letting her hands swing, and Bruce's shoved into his pants pockets. "Yeah. After our dinner date and the accident, this…" he gestured to indicate their relationship, "…changed. We used to…"

"Engage in public displays of affection."

He chuckled at the clinical tone she purposely used, adding, "And a little second base action in private."

Head tilted down, Natasha seemed to find the concrete sidewalk fascinating, as if the answers she was looking for had been written underneath their feet in a code she was trying to decipher. Then, she turned to look at him through a curtain of blonde hair, the wavy strands fluttering in the breeze. "Most of the time, _I_ take the initiative."

"Yeah. So?"

She stopped walking, but he kept going another step, turning to face her. There was another long pause, during which she kept her eyes on his, unblinking hazel locked with brown. Then, she smiled, softly, with warmth and fondness. "I'm waiting for _you_ to make the next move."

"What if I don't?"

"You will when you're ready."

Shaking his head, Bruce wanted to kick himself for thinking the worst. That she had backed off because of the reminder that the Other Guy was still somewhere inside him, waiting to be unleashed again. Rubbing the back of his head and smiling sheepishly, Bruce finally put all the pieces together. "Thank you for being honest."

They watched each other for a span of time that seemed long, but was in reality only a few seconds. "So why haven't you?"

~~O~~

Bruce's eyes tracked side to side as if he were making sure they were alone before speaking. And they were. Or as alone as they could be at dusk in the City that Never Sleeps. Without looking away, Natasha waited patiently for Bruce to weigh all the evidence and draw a conclusion before making his response.

He was a genius, and it didn't take long. "I thought you'd changed your mind, that you didn't want…What I mean is…_crap_. I'm _really_ out of practice at this relationship stuff."

"You're doing fine."

Bruce's hands came up to lightly grip Natasha's upper arms and draw her to him. Pressing her palms to his chest, she slid them up to his shoulders and around his neck. She wanted to take the lead, to force him to hurry. But this was his show, and it would happen when _he_ wanted it to.

Slowly, Bruce leaned forward to press his lips to hers in a kiss that started out sweet, a gentle touch that showed just how much he cared for her. The urge to deepen the kiss swelled, but she resolutely pushed it down, and she was glad she did when he moved in closer until the front of their bodies grazed each other and the kiss became so much sweeter while at the same time heating her blood.

Bruce ended the kiss before she was ready, and she let him.

Loosening his hold, his palms slid down the outside of her arms, past the elbows, continuing along her forearms to grip her hands. He dropped one hand and tucked the other around his arm just above the elbow, starting them walking again.

"May I make a suggestion?"

Grinning, he squeezed the hand holding onto his arm. "Of course."

"Theo was a late birthday present."

It didn't surprise Bruce that Natasha knew his birthdate. She earned her reputation as one of SHIELD's top agents for a reason: she was very good at her job. When she'd taken on the position as his bodyguard, she would've wanted to know everything about him, including his date of birth, so she did her research, just like he'd done on her. That's how he knew she was fourteen years his junior. And one of the reasons why he'd been hesitant about any relationship between them except as friends even though he didn't care what other people thought about him and his life choices and neither did Natasha. Their friends wouldn't judge them. Barton had shown concern for his partner's welfare by inquiring as to Bruce's intentions, but at no time did the archer express doubt on basis of age.

"My birthday was in April."

"Better late than never. Let's celebrate tonight."

Bruce looked down at her upturned face, the twinkle of mischief telling him all he needed to know. "You have something in mind?"

"I do."

A thought occurred to him, and he stopped her from flagging down a cab. "Please tell me you didn't plan a surprise party."

Snorting a laugh, Natasha whistled for a cab. "I promise it will just be the two of us. And the staff at the restaurant."

"What restaurant?" Bruce opened the cab door, waited for Natasha to get in then slid in next to her.

"You'll see." She gave an address that was unfamiliar, and Bruce resigned himself to waiting for the big reveal.

And that was how Bruce and Natasha ended up in a room filled with red, yellow, blue and green plastic balls laughing so hard they had to hold onto each other for support as they climbed out and walked to their table.

The restaurant, Fun Junction, featured a variety of kids' games, a virtual reality set-up and a menu limited to pizza, cake, ice cream, soft drinks, shakes and milk. The store's mascot was an animatronic beaver dressed as a railroad engineer, and his crew. A member of the staff dressed up as the beaver had come out to greet the birthday boy, and was unceremoniously sent scurrying into the back room by Natasha.

At the end of the night, they had each won enough of the game tickets to get a prize from the gift shop. Bruce took home a purple and blue monkey while Natasha had gone with a giant hot pink teddy bear which she promptly named Misha.

A smartass quip was on the tip of his tongue however, it went unsaid when the manager took Natasha aside. They spoke briefly, and shook hands.

Wrestling the gaudy stuffed animals out the front door, Natasha again waved down a cab. The bear was permitted to sit in the front seat, after the driver extorted a substantial tip of course.

Natasha and Misha escorted Bruce and the monkey up to his apartment. The stuffed animals were set in the armchair. Theo gave them both a thorough sniffing and pronounced them acceptable additions to his environment. Bruce put the kettle on for tea, listening to Natasha talk to the cat in Russian.

Now that they were alone, and with their earlier talk hanging in the air, Bruce almost regretted inviting her upstairs. Almost. He wanted her here, yet he didn't. If they were a normal couple, then this night might have ended with them taking the time to explore new territory with each other. But they weren't normal, not by a longshot.

Bruce wanted to be with Natasha in every way possible, and soon, but it wasn't realistic. They had to be patient, take things slow. With the near hulk-out still fresh in his mind, the most he could handle would be kissing with light petting to mix it up a little. He doubted that Natasha expected anything tonight. Or did she? She was seldom surprised by anything, so maybe tonight he would…

The kettle whistled, jolting him out of his thoughts. A good thing too because a quick glance at the heart monitor showed that his pulse had climbed to near eighty from his normal resting heart rate of sixty-eight. Closing his eyes, he went to his happy place, breathing, and letting all the little worries fade away. He finished preparing the tea, set it all on a tray and carried it to the living room.

Natasha had taken off her shoes and turned on the music. Bruce was relieved to hear soothing instrumentals instead of rock. She sat on the sofa with Theo in her lap, stroking his head, the purring so loud Bruce could hear it over the music. Theo was gently removed from his spot when Bruce handed her a cup. Holding it in both hands, she inhaled the calming lavender before taking a sip.

Conversation wasn't always necessary when two people shared a camaraderie that went deeper than simple friendship. It was times like these that Bruce cherished as much as the talking about whatever subject that came to mind. Once they'd gotten to know each other, Bruce found that Natasha was smart, funny, charming, and above all, devoted to the people she cared about. He knew that at one time she had utilized questionable moral codes and principles to make a name for herself and that it had been Barton who'd convinced her to step away from the precipice over which she was in danger of falling.

Though Bruce and the archer maintained a somewhat prickly relationship-not quite friends, not quite adversaries-they both wanted the same thing: Natasha's happiness above even their own. That was the glue that held the two men together in spite of everything. Someday, Natasha would choose a man to be The One, and if she happened to chose Bruce then he would spend the rest of his life proving himself worthy. And Clint, who loved Natasha in his own way, would support her in everything, knowing she'd kick any man who attempted to mistreat her to the curb-if not worse.

Setting his cup aside, Bruce let out a silent sigh and covered a yawn. He took Natasha's empty cup, setting it with his on the tray and put his arm around her. Immediately, she snuggled close with her head on his shoulder and one small hand lying on his chest. He could feel its warmth through the material of his shirt. Though she appeared to be asleep, he knew she was fully aware of her environment.

A lock of blonde hair had fallen down, curving around to stick to her cheek. It made her look childlike and otherworldly, two words he would never have associated with the Black Widow, but seemed to fit this version of Natasha. That could change in an instant-it happened in Calcutta within minutes of their first meeting.

With the greatest of care, Bruce used his finger to move that hair and tuck it behind her ear. He didn't stop there. His thumb lightly grazed the skin along the edge of her cheekbone and down over her jawline to her chin. Proving that she was indeed awake, she smiled and opened her eyes as he tilted her head up so he could press a kiss to her lips.

Natasha moved the hand on his chest up to touch his temple, brushing through his hair and down to the back of his neck, shifting so that she was now facing him with her knees pressing into the back of the sofa.

His arms turned her so that she was lying across his lap, and when he touched his tongue to her lips, she opened for him like a flower to the sun. The hand in the middle of her back worked its way down to the edge of her shirt and slipped beneath to touch the smooth skin of her back while she tangle her fingers in his hair.

Feeling his pulse rising too quickly, Bruce backed off, but didn't stop what he was doing. Natasha sensed what was happening and did the same. As long as the alarm on his watch stayed silent, they were good to go.

Time seemed to slow down. Their lips separated, and Bruce just hugged her to him, closing his eyes and breathing. But the feel of her breasts pressing against his chest made it difficult to concentrate. Natasha understood and helped by skimming a hand across his shoulder to caress the bicep, squeezing in a rhythm, down to the elbow and up again. Slowly, over and over.

Soon, he felt able to continue, capturing her mouth once more. The hand touching her lower back glided over the round firmness of her backside, stopping to give a small squeeze, and feeling it contract in response.

Lightly touching the large muscle on the back of her thigh, Bruce reached her knee, and hooked his fingers underneath, using both hands to lift her until her backside rested on the tops of his thighs. He was giving the idea of going for third base serious consideration when a loud noise forced them apart.

In an instant, Natasha went from a woman locked in a passionate embrace to protector. She jumped to her feet, and a gun appeared in her hand. Where she'd hidden it, Bruce didn't want to know. Or maybe he did, but not now. Head cocked to the side, she listened. To help, Bruce turned off the music. He started to get up, returning to his seat at her sharply spoken, "Stay!"

She prowled the room, checking the front door, windows, and patio, and clearing the kitchen. The sound wasn't repeated, but still she remained on alert, eyes darting around looking for danger in the dark corners of the living room, finding nothing.

His voice low to keep from startling her, Bruce ventured, "It's probably the cat. He's always knocking stuff over."

The stiffness in her shoulders relaxed, and her thumb found the gun's safety. Then, just like that, it was back, the watchfulness. "Theo's in the chair. Stay here."

Tiptoeing, Natasha made her way down the hall to search the bedrooms, the ensuite, closets, and second bathroom. Bruce heard doors opening and closing, the last one harder than the rest showing annoyance.

Her voice on the phone accompanied her near silent footsteps just as Bruce was carrying the tea tray into the kitchen. Standing at the sink refilling the kettle, he felt her come into the room to stand behind him. Without turning, he remarked, "That's one way to kill the mood."

There was no response from Natasha except to set her phone on the counter and return to the living room where she turned the music on again, louder. She came back and he glanced over his shoulder, doing a small double take. She was still holding the gun in her left hand, the expression in her eyes grave as she moved in close, keeping her voice low. "When was the last time the apartment was swept for bugs?"

"If you mean electronic surveillance, couple of days ago."

"How often do you work from home?"

He poured hot water into their cups, dropped a bag in each then passed one to her. "Never. I have a computer, but seldom use it. And Theo was with me at the lab this past week. Tonight's the first I've been home in almost two weeks. The sweepers come in every couple of days even when I'm out of the country. Why? What happened?"

"A picture fell off the wall in your bedroom. When I put it back, I found this." She pulled out a device no larger than a pencil eraser. "According to Clint, the sweepers are due back in the morning. You arrived here at seventeen-twenty tonight, and no one came in or out until I arrived."

"Who would be monitoring _me?_ I'm nobody."

Natasha returned to the living room and Bruce followed, both resuming their seats on the sofa. "You're a SHIELD scientist and the Other Guy is still considered a threat to national security by agencies that aren't as open-minded. That's why you're escorted when you go out in public."

With a touch of humor, Bruce took a sip of tea then set the cup aside. "And I thought you enjoyed my company."

"I _do_. It's a two-for-one deal. I get to spend time with you and, at the same time, I know you're safe."

"How did they get past your SHIELD watchdogs?"

"Don't know yet. But we'll figure it out." Natasha flashed him a sidelong glance, clasping their hands together on her thigh, all seriousness. "Bruce, I want you to know how much our friendship has meant to me this past year."

The tone of Natasha's voice and the way she held his hand reminded Bruce of his junior year of high school when Ginger Salazar dumped him just before prom. He'd been hurt, but nothing like he was feeling now. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Her look of shock was almost comical. "Of course not."

"Good."

"Breaking up would mean that we were in a formal non-platonic monogamous relationship. With the way our lives are right now…"

"Look at me." He waited until she'd done as he asked, and smiled. "Don't preach to the choir. Right now, I know it's not possible for us to be more than what we are. However, I _do_ need to say this. Natasha, I…"

**TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Thanks once again to ladygris for doing the Beta. I've done a little for her so I'm hoping we'll see something new posted soon.

**Warning:** This chapter contains material that is not suited for younger readers. I didn't want to change the rating so please do not read if you're under 18.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 9**

Natasha interrupted Bruce by raising her hand for silence. Though they were quiet, Natasha still heard the squad of SHIELD agents coming down the hall, Clint issuing orders like a general sending troops into battle. Natasha opened the door before he could knock. "Thanks for coming so fast, Clint."

"No problem. I can sleep when I'm dead." Heavily armed men and women dressed all in black and carrying cases of equipment entered behind Barton, fanning out through the apartment and going to work. Barton took out a device, turned it on and set on beside the stereo. "We're jamming the bugs. All they'll see and hear is Banner going through his usual nightly routine."

Bruce joined them, his arms crossed, a scowl showing he was also annoyed. "How long is this going to take?"

Clint's eyes flicked from Natasha to Bruce and back. Though his expression was neutral, she knew he had questions. Like why she was here when the next shift should've taken over at twenty-two hundred? They varied the length of each shift and the time they switched out so no one would see a pattern. "Not long. You should stay somewhere else tonight, just in case."

"He's staying with me."

There was a crash, and Clint started down the hall, drawing up short when Bruce said, "I'll go. It looks like you two need to talk."

Over her shoulder, Natasha watched until Bruce had gone then confronted Clint with a scowl. "What's with the look?"

He feigned innocence, but she wasn't buying it. Never had. "What look?"

She fingered the gun shoved into the waistband of her pants. "Like you think something's going on."

Clint's eyes glanced up and back down. "Your hair's all…" She glared at him, and Clint waved his hands in surrender. "Banner said it's none of my business, and he's right. Whatever the two of you were doing isn't relevant."

Natasha didn't bother to check her hair. To do so would mean that she was ashamed of Bruce and their relationship. Her feelings for the scientist went beyond those of friendship, and she would never dishonor him that way.

She'd told the truth earlier. The nature of her job meant that an exclusive relationship wouldn't be realistic in its current form. What they were to each other was changing a little at a time, and they had to change with it. At the moment, Natasha wasn't sure how to do that. Bruce was a scientist. She was a spy, an assassin. They were what they were.

_Bruce_ could change. She'd seen the signs over the last year, subtle though they might be. And it may be difficult, even next to impossible, but _she_ might be able do it, too. She would try for Bruce. But not now. Tonight, Bruce needed her to be herself. He needed her strong. Not because he required her support, but because they were friends who cared about each other. He was a strong man who thought compassion made him weak. Someday she might convince him that having compassion was what _made_ him strong. Each day, Bruce dared to be the best version of himself he could under the circumstances, and that was the sort of strength Natasha wished she had because she hadn't been herself for many years.

Natasha returned her thoughts to the job, ignoring Clint's comments. "When they're done…"

Natasha was interrupted by a loud yowl at her feet. She and Clint looked down to see Theo standing between them giving Clint a death glare that made hers pale in comparison. His tail lashed side to side showing his resentment of SHIELD's disruption of the quality time he spent with his humans.

His eyes wide, Clint exclaimed, "What the hell?"

Huffing, Natasha bent down to pick up the orange and white cat. He snuggled against her neck, purring. "His name's Theo. He was a birthday gift for Bruce, and he's such a good boy. Aren't you, _moy malen'kiy kotenok?_ Say hello to your Uncle Clint, Theo." Clint started to touch Theo on the head, yanking his hand back when the cat growled. Natasha chuckled. "I don't think he likes you."

She didn't know how it was possible, but Clint was the only person she knew who could swagger standing still. "He will, once he gets to know me."

"Then he'll have complete contempt for you. Oh, wait. He already does."

"What about, you know, _him?_ Isn't it dangerous for the cat?"

Natasha didn't have to ask who Clint was talking about. He always referred to the Other Guy as _him_. A smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "It's a scientific fact that having a pet lowers blood pressure and reduces stress. And Bruce just seems happier since Theo's been a part of his life." Clint barked a laugh then tried to cover it with a cough, and she huffed at him for it. "What?"

"Yeah. It's the cat." The leader of the sweeper squad joined them, giving a short yet detailed report of their findings. Clint nodded and sent them on their way. "As agreed, we're leaving the bugs in place. If the need arises, we can use them to pass around disinformation." Clint handed Natasha what looked like an unopened deck of cards. He took out a black box with buttons and lights on one side. "At the moment, we're sending out false signals about what's going on in here. To stop it, tap here. That enables them-whoever they are-to get real-time information and allows _us_ to control the amount and _type_ of information they receive."

Bruce rejoined them at the tail end of the conversation, making a sound of derision. "How the hell am I supposed to act normal knowing they're listening to everything I say and do? I already can't go to the bathroom alone. And what if 'they' suddenly decide to reclaim their property?"

"They won't," Clint assured him. "This type of surveillance device has a built in self-destruct. Send a pulse through at a specific frequency and it fries the circuitry."

"What if Theo's here alone and a fire starts?" Hearing his name, Theo stretched out a paw toward Bruce. The scientist obediently took possession of the cat, stroking his head and neck, more for his own comfort than the cat's.

"You're staying with me until we find you a new place." To Natasha, it was the best on a list of not so good solutions. But until they could find out who was attempting to monitor Bruce and his work and eliminate them, it was the only way she could be certain that they'd both be safe. "Go pack. Wheels on the road in ten."

"Wouldn't he be safer at Triskelion?" Clint put in. "Banner's got carte blanche to use the R&D facilities Stark Tower, and there's a living area where the cat can stay."

Natasha silently conferred with Bruce. Nodding once, the scientist went into the bedroom and closed the door. They heard drawers opening and closing, the cat yowling in protest, and Bruce rejoined them a few minutes later with a duffle bag over one shoulder and Theo in a carrier. He set them near the entertainment center and disappeared into the kitchen, coming out with another bag containing food. "We can stop on the way and get him a box."

Briefly, Natasha held Bruce's hand, as much to comfort herself as him. "Clint and his people will take you while I go home and pack."

"Pack?" Clint and Bruce scowled at each other when they spoke at the same time.

Ignoring the archer as if he weren't there, Natasha brushed her fingers over Bruce's cheek. "Until we figure this out, _I_ go where _you_ go." She reached up to kiss him, just a quick one. "I'm running this show so no arguments," she added when both men started to protest. "Now _go_. I'll see you in an hour, Bruce."

~~O~~

Clint watched Natasha leave, directing his men to carry Banner's bags and the cat carrier. On the way down in the lift, Clint gave his charge instructions. "When we get to the first floor, it's business as usual, doc. My men will go out the way they came in so they're not seen. We're just a couple of pals heading out for a beer. Got it?"

"Security's never seen you before. They'll know something's up."

Clint snorted. "Won't be a problem. He's one of us."

Banner stared at him for a long moment. "Henry is SHIELD?"

"Don't let the white hair and wrinkles fool ya. You know Coulson trained me."

"So I heard."

Clint took out his Glock, gave it a quick check and returned it to the holster under his right arm. "Henry trained Coulson." As they passed the third floor, the archer glanced at Banner and back to the display. "Look, doc. I apologize for what I said before about you and Nat. This past year she hasn't been as tightly wound as she used to be, and I know it's because of you." When it looked like Banner would interrupt, Clint held up his hand. "Nat doesn't have any family, and only a few people she can call friends. She was devastated when Coulson died though you'd never have known it. We all were, but she took it harder than anyone."

The video from Stark's penthouse after his confrontation with Loki flashed through the archer's memory making him smile. _There's one other guy you pissed off. His name is Phil._ "The point is whatever happens with you and Nat, you have my blessing. I know you don't need it, but you got it."

The lift came to a stop as the indicator changed from two to one. "Show time, doc. Cross the lobby, wave to Henry just like any other night, get in my car parked at the curb, and we'll be at Stark Tower before you know it."

~~O~~

It took months for the party or parties who'd bugged Bruce's apartment to give up, finally realizing that SHIELD had caught onto to them. At last check, the bugs had been fried. And while Bruce had liked that apartment, he was just as happy living at Stark Tower and working in the lab there. Theo liked it too because he had free run of the floor where the living quarters were located though most of the time it was just the two of them. Thor and Steve Rogers came to stay now and then, but mostly they were alone or with Natasha.

JARVIS took care of food and water, and keeping the litter box clean when Bruce was working long hours or out of the country. When he was home, all Bruce had to do was feed Theo dinner and provide companionship in the evenings. Of course, Theo didn't want for human interaction the rest of the time. The cat would make his way down to the offices where the Stark employees gave him all the attention he wanted or needed. Sometimes he even joined Bruce and his team in the lab where he would let them know they'd been working too long by walking between the person and the monitor, or wind himself around the feet of anyone working at the systems that hung from the ceiling. Occasionally, one of them would inadvertently step on his tail, and he'd yowl, make a scene, and end up the center of attention, as was his intention. Sometimes he sat in the middle of the room and yowled until everyone left.

After the incident with the bugs, Natasha began refusing assignments that took her out of the country. Bruce and Natasha continued with their weekly skip days, often getting Clint and his girlfriend, Adele Wolfe, involved, like the day they went to the beach and built a sandcastle that people pulled off the road to photograph.

At Bruce's insistence, Natasha took a day for herself, alone and away from work at least once every two weeks. She refused go more often and nothing Bruce said changed her mind. What she did on those days Bruce didn't know nor did he ask. If she wanted to talk about her day, he listened, giving their evenings together an air of intimacy that had nothing to do with sex. On these occasions, Bruce felt as if he could have a normal life even with the specter of the Other Guy hanging over his head and those of anyone near him.

While Natasha spent all day in meetings with Fury, Hill and the Council, Bruce had been busy, though not with his project. JARVIS was a big help though the planning didn't take much time at all. The menu had been exceptionally simple to create.

It would be just the two of them, and Theo, so there was little chance that they'd be interrupted.

The temperature for November was mild enough that they could eat on the balcony. The same one where Loki had thrown Stark out the window and the Other Guy had beat the crap out of the demi-god. Most of what happened during the invasion was lost to Bruce, but that was one memory he'd retained. It also made turning into the Other Guy-twice-worthwhile.

Taking his suit from the closet, Bruce hung it on the back of the bathroom door with the shirt. He examined his selection of ties, all three of them, and made the decision to go without. "JARVIS, send a text to Agent Romanoff, please."

"_Of course, sir. What shall I say?_"

Bruce thought for a moment deciding to keep it simple. "'Please join me on the balcony at eight for dinner. Dress fancy.' How does that sound?"

"_I'm sure Agent Romanoff will be quite intrigued by the invitation, sir._"

"I hope so."

There was a pause during which Bruce assumed that JARVIS was carrying out his request. Then, the AI inquired, "_Will there be anything else, sir?_"

"That'll do, JARVIS. Thanks for your help."

"_My pleasure, sir._"

To Bruce, the AI sounded sincere. "One question. I know you monitor everything that goes on here."

"_Let me put your mind at ease, Dr. Banner. I do not monitor the living areas within Stark tower. If you wish, I will also not monitor the common area._"

More relieved than he should be, Bruce started unbuttoning his shirt. "Thanks. I think I can handle things from here."

"_Enjoy your evening, sir._"

~~O~~

Councilman Rockwell had been arguing with Councilman Yen for nearly thirty minutes. They kept going over and over the same issues. Natasha did her best to keep up, to pay attention. She was getting hungry and bored. She stifled a yawn before it could show itself thereby earning Hill's disapproval. Not that she cared what any of them thought at this moment. Natasha just wanted to get away before she lost the will to live.

Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her legs, swinging the top foot in order to stay awake. Her phone vibrated to let her know she'd received a text. Grateful for the distraction, she tapped the screen, holding in a smile at the message from Bruce inviting her to dinner. _Dress fancy? What's going on?_

Thankfully, the meeting ended shortly thereafter. The holographic images of the council winked out as the rest of the attendees got to their feet and Natasha rushed out before Fury or Hill could engage her in conversation. Her dinner with Bruce was scheduled for twenty-hundred. If she hustled, she'd arrive fashionably late.

An hour later, she arrived at Stark Tower. By the time she reached the living quarters, she would be just at ten minutes late. Stepping into the elevator, she looked up at the ceiling with a smile. "Good evening, JARVIS."

"_To you as well, Agent Romanoff. I've informed Dr. Banner that you are on your way_."

"Thank you." Curiosity got the best of her and she asked, "What's going on?"

The AI paused as if deciding if he should speak or not. "_Dr. Banner prefers the element of surprise, Miss_."

Smiling at the AI's tone, she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "How many people will be at this event?"

"_Just yourself and Dr. Banner. Oh, and the cat_." JARVIS said the last word with what in a human would be scorn. The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened. "_Enjoy your evening, Miss_."

Natasha had only been to this floor a couple of times. The first was just after Hulk's defeat of Loki and again when Stark and Pepper announced their engagement. To her right was the bar and a set of stairs that opened out onto what used to be Stark's Iron Man removal area. Unused since he'd upgraded the technology. On the left, a winding staircase led to the helipad on the roof, and to the left was a sunken area with a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Straight ahead, the split-level sitting area was filled with custom made furniture that cost more than she made in a year. All butter soft leather, chrome and glass.

"Glad you could make it." Slightly above her, Bruce leaned on the railing that circled the area. He wore a dark suit similar to the one he'd worn on Valentine's Day and a silver-gray shirt open at the neck with a few dark hairs showing above. "Please join me."

When she reached the top of the stairs, Bruce was waiting. She took his hand, and he led her out onto the balcony. One corner had been decorated with those white lights that twinkled, woven together with dark green silk vines and white silk flowers. She knew the vines and flowers weren't real because neither species would survive winter in New York. Soft music played in the background. The perfect romantic setting.

A small table set with a white tablecloth and china in a pattern used by her favorite restaurant. The neck of a champagne bottle poked out of crystal wine bucket filled with ice. In the air was the scent of cheese, beef and unidentifiable spices.

Bruce helped her off with her jacket, set it aside with her purse, held her chair then took the seat across from her. She took the crisp white napkin from under the place setting and draped it over her lap. "This is amazing. What's the occasion?"

~~O~~

"_Agent Romanoff has arrived, Dr. Banner_."

"Thanks, JARVIS." Bruce had been pacing and rubbing the back of his neck, telling himself he wasn't nervous or tense. That tonight was just another night for the two of them, but it wasn't. For weeks now he'd been trying to find the right time to tell Natasha how he felt about her, and tonight he would. Then again maybe he'd save it for after the holidays.

The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Natasha stepped out, and he forgot to breathe just for a moment. She wore a simple yet elegant black off the shoulder knee-length dress that left much to the imagination while being incredibly sexy at the same time. She unwound her cashmere wrap so he could see a black belt cinching her narrow waist. Dropping his eyes to the floor to keep from staring brought her small feet into sight, tucked into three-inch leopard print heels that matched the clutch handbag she was carrying. Bruce took the wrap, sliding it down her arms and off making the bangle bracelets on her wrist jangle. He carried the wrap and purse to the chaise lounge beside the door and returned to hold her chair.

"This is amazing. What's the occasion?"

Bruce's eyebrows drew downward in puzzlement. "You have no idea what today is, do you?"

"November twenty-second."

He once again took possession of her hand. "It's your birthday."

Natasha grinned, covering her eyes with her free hand. "I haven't celebrated in years. It completely slipped my mind."

"Neither have I, but I did this year, if you'll recall." After brushing a kiss over her knuckles, he opened the champagne and poured them each a glass. Holding his up, he waited for her to do the same. "I just learned this today so don't make fun of my accent." Going over the wording in his head, Bruce felt fairly confident in his ability to speak the Russian phrase without embarrassing himself. "_Pazdravlyaju s dnjom razhdenija._"

Natasha's eyebrows raised in a gentle expression of surprise. "Very good. And I can help with the accent, if you like." They tapped glasses and sipped the champagne. "What's for dinner? It smells delicious, by the way."

He gave her a secretive smile. "Something in keeping with our skip day theme." A small catering table sat in the corner. Bruce opened the top and took out two plates, setting one in front of Natasha and taking the other for himself.

She removed the cover and laughed, looking surprised and a little embarrassed when it ended on a snort. "What is it?"

"Macaroni and cheese with hot dogs. It was served in one of the foster homes I was in, and I thought, why not."

Scooping up some of the macaroni and a slice of hot dog, Natasha tentatively took a bite. "It's different, I'll give you that. And it would never have occurred to me to combine them."

Spearing a slice of hot dog and a few of the elbow macaroni on his fork, Bruce chewed slowly, watching Natasha eat. He didn't know how she did it, but she made their unassuming meal seem sophisticated and chic.

They talked about nothing in particular until they were done eating. Natasha dabbed her lips and placed the napkin beside her plate while Bruce refilled their glasses with the last of the champagne before removing the plates.

"Please tell me there's cake."

"It wouldn't be a birthday party without cake." Opening the cold storage of the catering table, Bruce hid what he was doing from Natasha. When he turned, she once again laughed out loud at the cupcake with a single candle stuck in it, the flame dancing with the cool breeze that sprang up. "I'll do us both a favor and stick to my day job by not singing the birthday song." He set the cupcake in front of her. "Now make a wish."

She paused for a few seconds of thought then blew out the candle. Swiping a finger through the frosting, she stuck it in her mouth making a sound of pleasure that caused Bruce's pulse to speed up just a little.

"Mmm. Raspberry with champagne frosting. How'd you know it was my favorite?"

Down on one knee beside her chair, he tucked a wispy lock of hair behind her ear, drawing his finger lightly along the side of her neck to the neckline of her dress. "Barton."

"Remind me to thank him."

The tip of his finger traced the edge of her collarbone, Bruce smiled when she shivered. With smirk, he took her hand. "Would you like to dance, Birthday Girl?"

For an answer, she stood and Bruce came up with her, turning their hands palm to palm and weaving the fingers together. He twirled her once then into his arms, his other hand resting lightly on her waist as he moved them to the beat of Frank Sinatra's _The Nearness of You_. To further lighten the mood, he asked, "So, where are you from?"

Bruce felt her smile where their cheeks touched and he smiled too. "A small mountain village in Norway. My father used to carry me and my fifteen brothers and sisters to school in a rickety old cart pulled by a pregnant ox."

"Six miles uphill, in the snow, even in summer."

"Oh, so you've been there?"

The hand on her waist slowly inched its way around to her lower back. "Lucky guess." The song ended, but he didn't release her, just kept moving until the next song started. Another Sinatra tune. Bruce kissed Natasha just below her ear, and felt her shiver in response. "Cold?"

"A little." She wasn't, and as lies went, it wasn't much.

"We can go in."

Embracing him tighter, Natasha shook her head once. "Not yet. One more song first."

When the song ended, they went inside and closed the door. "I'll make some tea."

"Later. Let's sit in front of the fire for a while."

Bruce shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it over the back of the love seat that faced the Italian marble fireplace. When Bruce sat beside her, she swung her legs over his lap. He held her close and together they listened to the fire crackling and popping. He was about to doze off when Natasha turned him toward her and lightly brushed a kiss over his lips. "Thank you for a wonderful birthday."

Placing his mouth close to her ear, he whispered, "It's not over yet."

"Oh?"

"Mmm-hmm. I haven't given you your gift."

~~O~~

Natasha let her fingers graze the side of his neck, and in response, he skimmed down her side to lightly squeeze her backside, continuing on to the back of one knee making her glad she hadn't worn stockings. "That feels nice, _lyubimaya_."

Grinning cheekily, Bruce nudged her legs off then slid down to kneel in front of her on the floor, placing one leg on either side of him. Her dress prevented him from getting as close as he wanted so he carefully inched the hem up toward her hips. He gave her another kiss, but when she tried to deepen it, he backed off, leaving her wanting more. Much more.

His hands gently held her left foot and slipped that heel off, his lips softly grazing the inside of her ankle. He released that foot and went on to the other one, removing that shoe and kissing that ankle as well. The feeling was so sensual Natasha didn't want it to stop. But it would because it had to. There was no way she'd risk lives for a few moments of pleasure, no matter how badly she wanted it.

All rational thought stuttered to a halt as his hand moved to the outsides of her legs at the knees. Closing her eyes, she smiled contentedly, pressing her thighs closer together as a signal that he should stop before it was too late. And then he did, and she wanted to shout at him to keep going.

When Bruce's hands reached the hem of her dress, they edged underneath and kept going until she had to lift her hips as the material was pushed even higher.

Keeping eye contact, his warm lips grazed the sensitive skin on the insides of her thighs just above the knees. First one side then the other, moving a little higher each time. His palms glided up under the dress, his fingers curling over the lacey edge of her panties. Then, he moved away from her, taking the panties with him until he was able to pull them over her feet and toss them away.

This time, when she felt the wet warmth of his tongue on her inner thigh, her eyelids fluttered closed, breaths coming in short pants. As aroused as she was now, it wouldn't take much to make her crash and burn, yet somehow he managed to prolong the event.

Brushing her fingers through his hair to get his attention, she waited for Bruce to look at her, and when he did, she lost her train of thought, for there in the depths of those dark brown orbs she saw something she never expected: love. It looked like love to her. Not having experienced the emotion, she had no frame of reference for it.

His gentle touch urged her legs even farther apart as he continued to kiss all along her inner thighs, moving higher and higher until…

Natasha's hands gripped the edge of the sofa cushion, and though she tried to stay silent, a rapturous moan burst from her throat, emptying her lungs and forcing her to gasp for breath at the intensity.

She tried to bring her traitorous body under control, something she'd never had a problem with in the past, but it conspire against her, wanting what Bruce was giving her so badly she ached.

If he was willing to give her this, even with all the risks it entailed, then who was she to deny him-and herself-the pleasure?

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Many thanks to ladygris for the Beta work.

Thanks,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 10**

"You want me to do _what?!_" Steve stared at Maria Hill, appalled.

Only Hill's eyes moved as she searched Steve's face. _Probably questioning my sanity_, she thought. Out loud, she said, "Romanoff and Banner have a date scheduled for tonight, and I need a mole. Someone to do a quick recon and sitrep."

She watched him take three steps and turn to look at her again, still with that bewildered look he did so well. "Why can't someone else do it?"

"Stark and Potts are out of the country, Barton refuses to be involved in this venture because Romanoff's his partner, _and_ she'd probably kill him. Thor's in New Mexico with Dr. Foster. My presence at Stark Tower would create suspicion. Who in their right mind would ever suspect Captain America of gathering intel for a betting pool on the subject of when the two people will finally have sex?"

The super-soldier seemed to be about to refuse then, he nodded. "Fine. But only because I was gonna stop by Stark Tower anyway."

Hill pursed her lips, the only outward sign that she was enormously pleased. "Good."

At the door, Steve turned. "Just so we're clear, what exactly do you consider… making love?"

She wanted to laugh at his naiveté, but that would be cruel. "If any part of one person's body has prolonged contact with the, uh, naughty bits of another, it's sex. There doesn't have to be…" Hill made an obscene gesture, uncertain how to end that sentence without further embarrassing Steve. "Just send me a text with a negative or affirmative response and the approximate time of said event."

He turned at the door, indecisive, but only for a moment. "Uh, Hill…"

"You're already on the board."

"Thanks."

Ducking his head to hide the blush on his cheeks, he left the office. A few minutes later, a helijet requested permission to take off.

~~O~~

Natasha's eyes squeezed shut as the first bright white stab of ultimate bliss ripped through her body. With the second wave, she called out Bruce's name. The third surge brought pleasure so intense that she thought she would die.

Bruce finally stopped what he was doing, and when she felt her body loosen enough, she drew her knees to her chest and rolled onto her side, whimpers and moans mixing with the panting as she slowly came returned to her body.

The cushions of the sofa shifted and a pair of warm, strong arms gently enfolded themselves around her, shifting her now limp body until she was cradled against his chest. Hot breath hit the side of her neck just before a familiar voice whispered, "Natasha?"

_Bruce._

Trembling, she laid her head on his shoulder, pressing a palm to his cheek, annoyed to see her hand shaking. Her knees came up as she cuddled into him, nuzzling his neck. "_Oh_, my God. _Where_ did you learn to do that?"

He snorted and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "Google."

She smiled against his neck. "Really?"

"No."

Sighing, Natasha whispered, "You told me you hadn't been with a woman in years."

He chuckled softly. "Haven't. Some skills you just never lose, I guess."

They stayed just like for what seemed like a very long time until she moved her head back to look at Bruce. As his eyes roamed over her features, she saw concern for her in their depths. "Are you okay?"

"I am _way_ more than okay, _lyubimaya_," she managed to whisper hoarsely. "I am fabulous." Shifting around so that she was sitting on his lap rather than lying across it, Natasha felt his body react to that slight amount of friction, and it gave her an idea.

~~O~~

Bruce didn't think there was a word for how he felt at this moment. What he'd just done for Natasha could have had a much different outcome. Pleasing her had been an experiment. If the alarm had gone off, he would've put a stop to it immediately, even if it meant leaving Natasha unfulfilled. He knew she'd understand and not be upset. That it had worked exhilarated him in a way he hadn't felt in a very long time.

She shifted on his lap, provoking the one reaction he'd hoped to avoid. And given their current position, he could hardly hide it. To go by her small gasp of surprise, she'd noticed. And in case he'd missed the clues, Natasha drew him into a kiss that began soft and tender, a way to express her appreciation without using words.

Their lips maintained contact even as Natasha maneuvered herself around until she could straddle his hips, both hands coming up to frame his face. Gradually, she increased the intensity as her mouth fought ravenously with his, and he responded in kind. Giving up all pretense of him being in charge, Natasha encircled his wrists, moving his hands from her waist down to her still bare bottom, encouraging him to squeeze. He answered her unspoken request by doing just that.

One of her small hands slipped down his neck, passed over his collarbone, and continued its southward trek. Bruce knew where she was headed, did nothing to stop her. When she reached her goal, he groaned into her mouth with pleasure that was close to pain over the sound of his zipper being lowered.

A quick glance at the heart monitor showed the display rapidly changing. As good as having her touch him felt-and that was _pretty_ damn _good_-his pulse was increasing way too fast. If they didn't stop soon, Natasha could be hurt and Stark would have to renovate again.

Bruce let Natasha continue with what she was doing until the heart monitor gave a warning beep. She either didn't hear or chose to ignore it. Not a good idea either way.

When the beeping became continuous, he called a halt to their activities by taking hold of her upper arms to push her back until their lips lost contact and she released him. With space appearing between them, her fingers flew to the buttons on his shirt. Finally, he rallied enough to still her movements. "Natasha, you-you have to stop. I mean it."

Huffing, she swung her leg up and over to sit next to him, holding one of his hands in both of hers. "All you got for your birthday was a cat and some mediocre pizza. It's only fair that _you_ get something out of this too."

"Oh, I got something out of it. Believe me. Not as much as _you_ did, of course. But that was the plan."

She let out a long, contented sigh. "It was a _great_ plan."

It was on the tip of his tongue to express how much he cared for Natasha, and if she hadn't kissed him just then, he would have. They pulled apart, reluctantly, when JARVIS spoke.

"_Dr. Banner, sir. Captain Rogers is on his way up._"

Giving Natasha a smile and one last quick kiss, Bruce waited until she'd gotten to her feet to straighten his clothes and hair. Some of her hair had come loose from the pins she'd used to hold the fancy braid in place, poofing out around her head. She tugged her skirt back into place reminding Bruce that she was bare underneath.

Apparently, Natasha remembered as well. She touched her backside, giving him a questioning look. Bruce searched frantically, but didn't find her black lace panties, just her heels, wrap and purse. Getting down on his hands and knees, he looked under the sofa, shrugging at her. Still hunting, he grinned to himself. Natasha wouldn't be embarrassed at all to have others know what they'd been doing. He, on the other hand, would rather Steve not be the one to find out. For the man still wrestling with the boldness of women in this day and age, the knowledge would be mortifying. He wouldn't be able to look either of them in the eye for a long time.

Bruce heard the balcony door open and close. Then, Natasha urged him to sit on the sofa with her. She speared a bite of the cupcake, holding it out for him. Though Bruce wanted to protest, there was no time as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.

Yawning and shedding his jacket, Steve headed for the bar. He opened the cooler and pulled out a beer, twisting the top off as he turned. The bottle had just touched his lips when he saw Bruce and Natasha. Bruce had taken the fork and was feeding her. She closed her eyes and made a yummy sound. "Mmm. My favorite."

Startled, Steve blinked a few times, looking from one to the other as Natasha leaned in and kissed Bruce. "Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something?"

Brushing her fingers over Bruce's cheek, Natasha smiled affectionately. "Bruce and I were just celebrating my birthday."

"Sorry I missed it. I hope it was a happy one, Natasha." She acknowledged Steve with a nod and a pointed stare, one eyebrow raised. Belatedly, Steve grabbed his jacket from the end of the bar. "Well, good night."

Steve ducked his head and dashed down the hallway to the living quarters. When he was gone, Bruce and Natasha looked at each other for a few heartbeats, breaking into silent laughter. They finished off the cupcake, ending with one more lingering kiss that left them both breathless. Bruce separated from her and pressed their foreheads together. "I have to be to the lab early tomorrow. We should go to bed."

Natasha grinned wickedly, her voice a throaty purr. "We _should_ go to bed."

Huffing good-naturedly, Bruce dropped an arm around her shoulders. "You _know_ what I meant."

"And _I _said what _I_ meant. I had meetings all day. Long, incredibly boring meetings. I'm too tired to be up all night on guard duty. The only way I can be certain you're safe is to stay _with_ you."

To a small extent, Bruce had reservations as to Natasha's motives, but he also remembered what she said the first time he'd been to her apartment. She was always completely upfront about her objectives. When she said sleep, she meant sleep, and nothing else.

As they climbed the two steps out of the fire pit, Bruce took her hand, twirled her once then into his arms, bending her back into a dip. She looked up and grinned, pointing at the ceiling. Caught in the elaborate chandelier were her panties, hardly noticeable because it was dark and the lights were out.

Natasha brought out a knife-because he was a guy, Bruce _really_ wanted to know where she'd hidden it-flipped it so she was holding the blade, drew back beside her left ear and let it fly. It whooshed through the air and stuck into the wall, the scrap of black lace dangling from it. She retrieved both, took Bruce by the hand and led him down the same hallway where Steve had disappeared, not stopping until they were inside Bruce's room with the door shut.

Taking a T-shirt and sleep pants from the dresser, Bruce handed them to Natasha, making an after you gesture. She went into the bathroom to change, coming out a few minutes later. She'd taken the rest of the pins from her hair leaving it swirling around her head in a blonde cloud.

Bruce took his turn, and when he returned to the bedroom, Natasha was stretched out on the bed under the covers. He thought she'd gone to sleep, but when he lay beside her, she rolled over to cuddle against his side, her palm resting on his chest. Though he knew the answer, Bruce still asked, "So you liked your birthday gift?"

"Oh, yes. Very much." She smiled and he felt it where her cheek touched his shoulder. "Still can't believe you did that. I'll have to come up with something spectacular for your next birthday."

Bruce hugged Natasha close, kissed her forehead, sighing with contentment. "Mmm. Can't wait."

~~O~~

The door to Steve's room whispered shut, cutting him off from Natasha's piercing gaze and from the musky aroma that hung in the air of what Steve called the common area. He'd only whiffed that particular scent on a few occasions. It seemed to cling to Stark like a sock to a sweater in winter, and always after the billionaire had spent a lengthy amount of time behind closed doors with his fiancée.

Instead of being embarrassed, Stark wore the fragrance like a badge of honor, though Steve didn't find anything honorable about letting the world know you'd just made love with someone. Banner would be more discreet, of course. Barton? Steve's opinion was that the archer wouldn't brag, but neither would he deny it if someone mentioned it. Thor? The Asgardian would never dishonor a woman that way.

In Steve's day, men didn't brag about their conquests, at least not the way they do now. And women _never_ did except to other women in whispered conversations with their best friends behind closed doors.

Taking out his phone, Steve stared at the screen. If he sent a "yes" text to Hill, he would be the winner. She'd probably think he had inside information and had essentially cheated. All he could do is pass on the information. What Hill did or didn't suspect was up to her. He never kept his winnings anyway. They always went to the Wounded Warrior Project as did a portion of his SHIELD paycheck each month.

He tossed his jacket on the chair, used his thumb to tap out a message, and added that he would pick up his winnings in the morning.

~~O~~

Thanksgiving, Christmas, Kwanza, Hanukkah and New Year's came and went with Natasha spending most of her days and nights keeping watch over Bruce. He moved out of Stark Tower into an apartment in DC, close to the Triskelion. It was more secure than his previous place, yet she still remained hyper-vigilant. She wasn't certain why. When she was away on personal business that had nothing to do with an assignment, she called or video chatted with him at least once a day, just to verify that he was okay. On several occasions, she caught Clint staring at her with an oddly thoughtful look, but rather than call him on it, she chose to ignore it.

Then during one of their workouts, Clint and Natasha circled each other around the mat looking for an opening. There was a flurry of blows that ended with Clint flat on his back, Natasha smirking down at him. She reached out to help him up, watching him limp over to the bench and take a seat. He took a long drink of water while she sipped and continued giving him The Stare. It made most people so uncomfortable that they had to fill the silence with inane chatter, but not Clint. He just stared at the tops of his sneakers.

Slumping in his seat with his elbows on the back of the bench, water bottle dangling from one hand, it seemed like Clint had something to say. Natasha just had to be patient. And when he did speak, what he said wasn't what she expected. "Have you told Banner you're in love with him?"

Natasha coughed, nearly choking on a mouthful of water. When she could speak again, she said, "We're friends, Clint. Nothing more."

Clint snorted. "Hope you're not trying to _sell_ that load of crap."

Turning away from him, she forced her hands to be still when they wanted to fiddle with the top of the water bottle. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"In the beginning, I didn't think it was a good idea, you and Banner. But I've been watching the two of you for over a year. You've been good for each other."

She gave a nanosecond's thought to walking away from this conversation. However, in Clint's mind it would only be confirmation, so she stayed and said nothing. Clint allowed the silence to stretch until Natasha had to speak or go mad. "I admit that Bruce has changed since we've gotten to know each other, but I haven't. I'm the same now as I was before. Older and a little wiser perhaps, but I'm still me."

"But you _have_ changed, and I wouldn't have it any other way. None of us would. I'm just saying that the changes are normal. We all change over time in response to the people around us. Especially for someone who loves and cares for us. And in spite of those changes, you're still _you_. It's just that now you're responding to another person's wants and needs because you want and need them in your life. It's not a forced thing, but it's a natural side effect to the caring shown to you by another. Someone who loves _you_ for _you_, and not what you can do for them.

"Some things will never change because they're a part of your core personality. But there are things, like Banner working to control the Other Guy, that can and should change when you're in a relationship. You do all of this simply because you want the other person to be happy more than you want yourself to be happy. Then, when you know the other person is happy, that makes _you_ happy and the feeling continues to grow."

Natasha went completely still. Not only did listen to what Clint said, but she heard him too. She felt him come to stand behind her, one hand touching the back of her shoulder. Clint could be a royal jerk, yet it comforted her to know that he was also a compassionate and understanding man. "Clint…"

"I know you know this, Nat. You just needed someone to point it out." The touch on her shoulder moved to her hand. "Tell him how you feel, before it's too late."

The tone of Clint's voice gave Natasha pause. There was something he wasn't saying, or had she imagined the ache of underlying pain that crept in toward the end? Could he be thinking about Loki and the invasion, and how different everything could've turned out for Earth if just one of the random events had not happened? "What's this about, Clint? You're not usually so…"

"Garrulous? Verbose? Long-winded?" He tried to inject a note of amused sarcasm, but it fell flat.

"Morose. What's gotten into you, _moy drug__?_ Is something wrong?"

Clint turned away, but not fast enough to keep Natasha from seeing grief glisten in his blue-gray eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was so soft she had to strain to make out what he was saying. "There was an accident at Project Insight. Six people were killed and another twenty seriously injured." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Adele was one of the six. They all died instantly."

Coming around in front of him, Natasha squeezed his right bicep, her usual gesture of comfort, but it wasn't enough. Taking a step closer, she hugged him, holding on until he finally hugged her back, hard. It was so unlike him, Natasha was concerned. "I'm so, so sorry, Clint."

They stayed like that for a time then Clint let go and stepped back, still averting his gaze. "The funeral's Wednesday in Seattle. I'd appreciate it if you could attend. After that, I'm on a mission."

Before she could say more, her friend and partner rushed out leaving Natasha alone in the gym. She would go to the funeral and take Bruce with her, if he could get away. They'd gotten to know Adele on their double dates, as Clint called them, and thought she was a good match for the archer. That Clint had lost her seemed a cruel trick of fate. He finally found someone to care about only to have her abruptly ripped from his life. If there was a God, how could he have let it happen?

Resigned to not getting the answer today, Natasha went to the locker room to shower before returning to Bruce's apartment. She spent nearly every night with Bruce. Most of the time, they slept in the same bed, sometimes performing the same activity from Natasha's birthday though infrequently, not wanting to tempt fate. As on that first occurrence, she came away so thoroughly satisfied she slept through the night. Even though she'd been persistent, he never let her reciprocate, but it didn't stop her from trying. She was tenacious when she wanted something, and she wanted Bruce to feel a little of the pleasure he'd given her. Despite his proclamations that he got as much from these encounters as she did, she still believed he deserved to have the same treatment.

What had them both annoyed was Theo. On the nights they planned to be amorous, the cat would jump on them at a critical moment, nearly ruining their evening. Eventually, they started closing the door. Then, Theo would rattle the door by slipping his paw underneath, grabbing hold with his claws and pulling hard, banging the door loud enough to disturb the neighbors. After being locked in the other bedroom a few times, the cat quit bothering them when the door was closed.

~~O~~

Bruce readily agreed to attend the funeral with Natasha. They sat with him in the second row behind the family. Natasha held Clint's hand, and the fact that he let her showed just how much Adele's death affected him. Clint was stoic all through the service, even during his short eulogy, but Natasha knew that behind his dark glasses, there were tears in his eyes.

Clint's only show of emotion came at the graveside as he stepped forward with her family, drawn by Adele's mother's hand grasping his. He laid a white rose- her favorite- on the coffin, pausing to touch the smooth veneer.

When it was their turn, Natasha took an extra moment to thank Adele for being a part of her partner's life. For showing him that he could allow himself to love and _be_ loved, all without losing himself.

That night, at the hotel, Natasha surprised Bruce in the shower determined that she'd have her way at last, but he turned the tables on her once again. In the morning, she rolled over to give him a taste of his own medicine, irked to find him already dressed and waiting on her to go to breakfast.

That was a couple of weeks ago, and since then other circumstances had conspired against Natasha and Bruce having any free time together, not even their skip days. It annoyed Natasha more than it should have. Bruce too, though he hadn't said anything. Didn't have to. She knew his moods. Knew _him_.

Today, they were taking the day and Natasha refused to accept no for an answer. After her meeting with Hill, Fury and Clint regarding her partner's just completed mission, Natasha changed into jeans, a black off- the- shoulder ribbed sweater over a white tank top, black boots with two- inch heels and a white jacket with a hood. She shoved her phone into one back pocket, and her wallet and government ID into the other. After applying lip gloss, she stuck the tube into the pocket of her jacket, grabbed her keys and went with Bruce to have lunch at their favorite café near the marina.

Last fall, construction of a new high rise had begun next to an existing one, and each time they had lunch at this cafe, they would sit and watch the crew working, remembering when the project had first broken ground. Now they were up to the twentieth floor, the bones of the structure still visible above seventeen.

It was a metaphor for their relationship, starting with nothing but hard- packed earth, and bit by bit, each floor was being built on the strength of the previous one. The love they felt for each other had been built on the strength of friendship, mutual admiration and respect, and Natasha was certain that it would stand the test of time.

Their food was delivered, and Bruce, reading and making notes while he ate, seemed to have forgotten Natasha was there. A breeze whipped her hair, blowing trash along the street and shaking the branches of trees that had gone bare in the fall. Some were just starting to bud, tiny green shoots that signaled to all that spring was on its way and the world was coming back to life after winter's dormancy. At least here in the northern hemisphere.

Spring was Natasha's favorite time of the year. New beginnings, hope, optimism, and the anticipation of warmth and color bursting from the ground, waving to the world, and inviting her inhabitants to dance like no one was watching. There were only two people in the world who knew this about her. Clint was one. And now Bruce.

They had lain in bed just that morning, not talking and savoring the few quiet moments together. Once both of them had come to full awareness, Natasha had shared her thoughts about spring while watching the budding tree out the window. She waited for the laughter, but he didn't laugh or make a snarky remark. Just hugged her close and kissed her neck.

The fleeting thought of once more trying to give him pleasure was discarded when he took her hand before she could even complete the thought. Plus he was wearing his cotton body armor, better known as pajamas.

Deciding that she'd been ignored enough, Natasha took the tablet from Bruce and shut it off.

"But I just need to…"

"You're supposed to be resting, _lyubimaya_. Not working." She shoved the tablet into the backpack Bruce had started carrying. "What should we do today?"

He smiled and held her hand where it touched his arm. "Anything you want. We haven't been to the museum on Fifth, if you'd like to go."

Natasha crinkled her nose at him. "It's too nice a day to be inside. How about a bike ride?"

~~O~~

Bruce and Natasha walked hand in hand down to the marina where they rented a tandem. With Bruce in front, they rode along the path that hugged the shore. They stopped to rest for a bit then, on the ride back to the rental place, the wind started gusting, knocking them into the sand. They sat there laughing at themselves for a while. After shaking the sand from their clothes and hair, Bruce pushed the tandem, occasionally glancing over at Natasha to find her looking at him with an enigmatic smile.

She'd dyed her hair red again and straightened it. For a mission or because she wanted a change, she hadn't said, and he didn't ask. She looked beautiful, as always, but he missed the curls.

They had to pass the café on the way back. Propping the bike against the wrought iron fence around the patio, Bruce set his backpack in an empty chair. Natasha took a seat to his left.

Suddenly, all conversation stopped. There was a collective gasp and people were staring up at the sky and pointing.

Removing his sunglasses, Bruce too looked up. His stomach clenched when he saw the crane swaying back and forth as the operator tried to bring it under control. He was unsuccessful due to the strong winds, and the boom swung around smashing into the completed structure.

Bruce winced at the screech of tires as cars swerved to avoid the sheets of glass and metal falling from the sky causing accidents and sending pedestrians running for their lives. He got to his feet wanting to do something to save lives and prevent destruction, his brain spitting out his limited number of options. He discarded all but one.

Sirens from the approaching first responders made him dizzy. The sensation of being pushed and falling ended with a grunt when Natasha tackled him to the ground. She ducked, covering her head and protecting him at the same time when a sheet of architectural glass smashed the table where they'd been sitting. He pushed on her shoulder and she unhesitatingly rolled away as he rose up on his elbows.

Pointing, Natasha shouted, "Bruce!"

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Bruce could see someone clinging to the girder high above the ground with no way for the emergency crew to reach him in time. The crane tilted, the girder swinging wildly out over the street. The people around them screamed when the man nearly fell. If someone didn't do something soon, he and a lot of others would die.

Bruce could only think of one person who could help at this moment.

**TBC**

**A/N: **Wounded Warrior Project (WWP) is a veterans service organization that offers a variety of programs, service and events for wounded veterans of the military actions following the events of 9/11/2001. It operates as a nonprofit organization with a mission to "honor and empower Wounded Warriors" of the United States Armed Forces, as well as provide services and programs for the family members of its registered "alumni," as its registered veterans are called.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Thanks once again to ladygris for doing the Beta.

**Warning:** This chapter contains material that is not suited for younger readers. I didn't want to change the rating so please do not read if you're under 18.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 11**

The huge hunk of metal hit the building again, showering the area with more glass and metal. Bruce grabbed Natasha and turned so his back would take the impact when an office chair came hurtling toward them. It hurt, but not as bad as he thought it would. If he had been an average human, it would've killed him.

Even from this distance he could hear the screams. Releasing Natasha, he pushed her away, holding out his hand. "Get back! Get everyone back."

There was an instant of relief as Bruce listened to Natasha yelling at the few bystanders still braving the onslaught of debris waving for them to hurry. "Go! Now!"

He spared a moment to verify that the plaza had been cleared of people as much as possible then closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Head tilted down, he summoned the strength of the Other Guy through the meditation exercises, recreating the sensations his body produced during the first phase of a hulk-out.

It started with pain in his chest that quickly spread throughout his entire body. He threw his head back, roaring with the force of it. The seams of his shirt and shoes split as his body grew in size, the muscles bulging and expanding, ripping his clothing to shreds. The ground telescoped away from him as he grew taller. Awareness of himself and his intellect were overridden by the primitive urge to destroy the source of the anger surging through his brain, pumping up the adrenaline, and testosterone, increasing his strength by a thousand.

Screaming came from nearby and he turned toward it. A group of tiny beings cowered behind the boxes with wheels and other small objects scattered over the ground. All but one. He sniffed the air. He'd seen this female before and the emotions associated with her were very pleasant.

"Bruce." She came toward him one careful step at a time, hand extended. "You're the only one who can save them, but you need to _hurry_."

More screaming. This time from the sky reminding him of another time when bad creatures tried to hurt him and the others. Grunting, he turned toward the sound to see a bad thing. That people could be hurt or killed angered him. With a mighty roar, he leapt into the air, jumping from one building to another until he was close enough to reach out an enormous hand.

~~O~~

A great gust of wind sent the girder swinging again accompanied by the screech of metal ripping. Natasha didn't know how, but the crane operator still clung to the end. But he couldn't hold on forever.

Hulk made his way up to the top, reaching out a hand to catch the man as he finally lost his grip. The man's scream ended abruptly when he landed in the palm of the Hulk's hand. The sun reflected off the remaining panels of glass making it difficult to see what was going on though Natasha was just able to make out Hulk setting the man carefully on one of the completed floors.

More screams came from the other building as the girder once again spun around, slicing through the corner a couple of floors below the original impact. Without that support, the floors above sagged, dumping everything, including the occupants out into the air. One woman managed to grab onto something, her feet flailing in the air.

With an enraged roar, Hulk plucked the people out of the air and slid down the side of the building, shoving them into the holes that his passage had caused.

Taking one gargantuan leap, he grabbed the crane as it too fell, swinging and throwing it. The crane arced through the air to land in the Potomac River creating a huge wave that rocked the boats splashed the shore. Some of the smaller boats overturned, tossing the occupants into the water.

Nearly all of Natasha's attention was focused on the Hulk and his efforts to rescue people from what could have been a tragic accident. She spared just enough of her attention to the arrival of fire engines, ambulances and police followed closely by television reporters. Overhead, she heard the whop-whop-whop of helicopter rotors.

An older man in a police uniform jogged over greeting her with a nod. "What's the Hulk doing in DC, and why weren't the Chief, the mayor and the city council informed?" She displayed her SHIELD ID and the man immediately backed off.

"Same as you and the others, Captain. Saving lives." Aiming her chin at the scene playing out above, Natasha scowled. "Prepare to receive the injured. He'll save as many as he can."

Turning her back on the police official, Natasha went back to watching Hulk scoop up victims and set them out of harm's way. One of the women stopped to watch, seeming to be fascinated by the Hulk. Natasha understood the lure of so much power contained within one being. With the structural integrity compromised, the edge crumbled and the woman soared out into space, her high pitched scream echoing in the urban canyon.

As if in slow motion, Hulk launched himself into the air after her, one massive hand reaching out to hold her against his chest. His trajectory threw them against the side of the new building, and he dug his free hand and both feet into the side to slow his descent. He jumped, smashing into the ground, crushing the concrete of the plaza.

Hulk stood in place holding the now unconscious woman and looking down at her with sad eyes. He made a questioning grunt, giving her a small shake. Moaning, she put a hand to her head as her eyes fluttered open. When she saw the Hulk's face floating above her, she opened her mouth to scream again, stopping when he passed her gently into the arms of the waiting paramedics.

Natasha reached up to touch his hand, her fingers unable to encircle even one of his. Keeping her voice even and calm, she looked up at the green behemoth. "Hulk? Bruce? Bring the people down so the doctors can help them. Can you do that for me?"

He considered her request as he used one of his fingers to brush the hair from Natasha's face. "Hulk bring people."

Hulk climbed back up three more times to carry down the people he'd rescued. Each of them gave him a smile of thanks as they were led to the waiting ambulances.

Now that the crisis had been diverted, Natasha prayed that the police wouldn't make any aggressive moves that would set the Hulk off, and for once, they didn't. Several of the police had their weapons out pointed at the ground. Having apparently learned from the past, one by one, they holstered their weapons. Her voice barely above a whisper, she said to the police Captain, "Take the injured and go, slowly. No sirens and no fuss. Just drive away."

Hulk stood there panting, each one ending on a grunt. He crouched in front of her, head turned to the side, watching her quizzically. "Hulk is good?"

Nodding, Natasha graced him with a bright smile. "Yes, Hulk is very good. But we have to go now. I don't think you want to see a video of yourself naked on YouTube."

"Hulk not on YouTube." He seemed to be agreeing with her.

"No, _plyushevyy mishka__moya_." She began walking, and just as she hoped, Hulk followed. Somehow, Bruce's backpack had come through it all relatively unscathed. She brushed small rocks and concrete dust from the outside and hooked it over her shoulder. When they neared the building where this all started, she took out her phone to scan the structure. In spite of the damage, the building was still sound.

Hulk obediently followed her into the parking garage for the unfinished building. Natasha wanted to get as far as possible from the exits to prevent nosy reporters from taking video. She had no doubts that someone was already hacking into the traffic and security cams to get footage of Bruce changing into the Hulk. And as he always woke up from a transformation naked, she wanted to save him any further embarrassment.

The lower level turned a corner blocking the area from sight. Natasha looked back at Hulk when he stopped with one hand on the wall. His energy stores were depleted. Soon, he would be unconscious.

"Bruce? Come with me, _lyubimaya_. You can rest over here."

Slowly, his head came up, his bright green eyes drilling into her as he took several aggressive steps in her direction, his hands clenching into fists again. "Hulk not like this place."

Natasha backed away until she was up against the wall of their refuge with him looming over her. She resolutely quashed the instinctive fear response when he roared at her with clenched fists raised. "Hulk _go!_"

Using the wall for support, she slowly stood, not taking her eyes off of him. She refused to look away. An inch at a time, she reached out to touch his hand. "I know you're in there, Bruce. That you know what I'm saying. You've stopped the transformation more than once. You can do it again. Just like when you made yourself change so you could save the people in New York and today. You _can_ change back, but you have to _want_ it, not just let it happen. _Take control_, Bruce. Make the Other Guy obey you, not the other way around."

There was one thing that might get through to him. "You've already saved me, Bruce. Let _me_ save _you_ now."

Head tilted to the side, listening, he really seemed to comprehend not just her tone, but the words. His enormous hand lifted her up to eye level. "Ta-sha?"

"Yes! Yes, Bruce. It's Tasha." She touched his cheek and he sighed at the contact, his expression softening from the frown into a smile, the light of awareness sparkling in his eyes.

"Ta-sha stay with Hulk?"

Excitement like she hadn't felt in a long time surged through her bringing a delighted smile to her face. "Yes, I'll stay with you always. Remember to breathe, Bruce. Close your eyes and go to your happy place."

Taking great care, Hulk held her against his chest as he inhaled and exhaled in the meditation rhythm they'd developed together to give him control over the rage. Closing her eyes, she sighed in contentment, listening to his heart beat as it slowed to normal. Hesitation drew his bushy eyebrows together, his forehead puckered in thought as he looked down at her. "Ta-sha love Hulk?"

Natasha touched his cheek. "Tasha loves Hulk _and_ Bruce very much."

There was a long moment where he thought that over. Then, the uncertainty disappeared, and he smiled. "Hulk love Ta-sha."

"I know _lyubimaya._" Hulk set her on the ground and Natasha watched with her mouth hanging open as his skin slowly changed from green to gray to the lightly tanned of Bruce's human skin. His bright green eyes became brown again. The enormous body slowly shrank until Bruce was himself once more. He blinked rapidly a few times then, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped to the ground.

Natasha covered Bruce with the shirt she took from his backpack to cover him, and lay down beside him, head resting on his shoulder. His breathing evened out, changing to the gentle pattern of sleep. Reaching back, Natasha found his arm, the muscles slack from exhaustion, pulled the arm around her, and waited for Bruce to wake up.

~~O~~

Hours later, Bruce began to stir. Shivering, he sat up, taking in the wide open parking structure. Rubbing his face, he found it free of dirt. His gaze landed on a basin filled with soggy paper towels. A cool breeze whispered over his exposed skin, and he looked down to see his lower half covered with a shirt.

Trying to get his bearings, he took in his surrounds, finding nothing familiar. He was alone. With only the shirt as cover and no money for a cab, he resigned himself to walking back to his apartment, unless someone took pity and offered him a lift. More likely, they would just keep driving or call the police, or both.

He found his backpack, removing pants and shoes. He heard nothing and no one, just the usual night sounds of the city. How long had it been since the accident with the crane? He and Natasha had stopped for something to drinks after their bike ride. Shaking his head, Bruce mused that the incident had probably been broadcast on television and the Internet repeatedly. Fury would have something to say about it, and Bruce didn't look forward to that conversation.

In the quiet of the night, footsteps could be heard approaching, too close for him to hide. He'd gotten over being embarrassed about waking up naked and with Hulk-induced amnesia long ago. His shoulders sagged in relief when Natasha came into view. She smiled as she joined him carrying a small white bag which brought with it the enticing scent of food, making his stomach growl.

"Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up."

"How long did it take you to find me afterwards?" he asked while he dressed.

"I was here the entire time. Knew you'd be hungry so I went to get food." After he put on his shoes, Natasha held up the bag. The smell of the burgers inside made his mouth water.

"Thanks." Natasha hadn't averted her eyes. She shamelessly watched him get dressed, but he'd stopped caring a long time ago. "Did I hurt anyone?"

"No. In fact, you saved people who would otherwise have died."

A wave of vertigo hit him and he sat down with his head between his knees. "I'm glad they made it." When he felt better, he looked at his hands, relieved when he didn't see blood.

"It was mostly minor injuries and a few severe, but the paramedics are optimistic that they'll be home in a few days. A week or so at most."

Natasha's feet came into sight, and he tilted his head back to look at her, nodding at the white bag. "That for me?"

She tossed him the bag. "Two burgers with the works. That enough?"

"It's a start." One side of his mouth curled in a wry smile. Unwrapping the first sandwich, he took a huge bite, chewing as Natasha led him out of the garage to her car parked at the curb. They got in and headed back toward his apartment. Without Bruce asking, she pulled into the drive-thru and ordered three more burgers and a large chocolate shake.

So intent was he on refueling his body, Bruce hadn't paid attention to where they were going until Natasha pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building. She got out and came around to his side of the car. "You don't have to walk me home, Tash. I'm a big boy, and the squad can keep an eye on me."

A puzzled frown pinned him briefly then was replaced by her everyday expression making Bruce wonder if he'd somehow hurt her feelings. "I'm staying with you tonight."

Her words-innocent in and of themselves-seemed to hold a different, deeper meaning, as if she were trying to tell him something, and Bruce wondered what had happened that he couldn't remember. Occasionally, he would get brief flashes of significant events after a hulk-out so maybe it would come to him later.

Too tired to coax the answer out of Natasha tonight, he dismissed it for now as they rode the elevator to his floor. She took his key and as was unlocking the door when her phone beeped. Staying out in the hall, she closed the door between them. Natasha's voice Dopplered as she paced the hallway. She started in Russian, switching to Italian. From her tone, he'd say Natasha was giving Fury a verbal report of the incident, having Hill do damage control or arguing with Barton. Or even a combination of the three.

Bruce finished off the burgers, threw the wrappers in the trash and while the water heated for tea, he fed Theo. Natasha hadn't come in by the time he'd finished the tea so he set the cup in the sink and returned to the living room. If he waited up for her, she'd insist on him taking the bed. Because she was a guest in his home, he wanted her to be comfortable and he could sleep anywhere. Stacking two of the decorative pillows at one end of the sofa, Bruce lay down and Theo was there within seconds, making himself comfortable on Bruce's stomach. He stroked Theo's soft fur and tried to stay awake, however, the cat's purrs, the droning of Natasha's voice and the events of the evening eventually lulled him to sleep.

~~O~~

Shutting her phone off with a sharp poke, Natasha stood in the hall for a moment letting her anger dissipate so Bruce wouldn't pick up on it. He was exhausted from his ordeal, and she didn't want her problems to become his, even if _her_ problems _were_ his. When she was able to produce a genuine smile, she pushed open the door and was greeted by snoring.

The rescue of the people and Bruce's first successful _controlled_ transformation had made this night a victory in her estimation. Having him say he loved her was incredibly sweet icing on the cake. She'd planned on them waking up cuddled together. And maybe after a good night's sleep, she would be able to verbalize her feelings as well, but with him on the sofa with the cat, she would be sleeping alone.

Tonight had brought the possibility of them being physically intimate closer to becoming a reality. However, if that aspect of their relationship never came about, she would be happy just knowing that he loved her and that she loved him too. The hardest part would be telling him. When she told Clint she loved him, it was with a great deal of sarcasm, and he always responded in kind. Plus, it was different. She _did_ love Clint, but as a brother. With Bruce… She smiled. She loved Bruce the way a woman ought to love a man like him. The way he deserved to be loved.

She knew he'd been speaking the truth when he said "Hulk love Tasha." As the Other Guy, Bruce was incapable of dishonesty in any form. He had an innocence about him that was the opposite of his ferocious appearance. When he carried the injured from the building, he'd done so with the greatest care, in the same way he'd done when Stark fell from the sky after their victory over the Chitauri.

Taking a blanket from the bed, Natasha returned to the living room. With gentle movements, she removed his shoes. Moving his arm from over his eyes, she laid it on his stomach with the other one and pulled the top edge of the blanket up to his waist. He didn't move an inch, not even when she drew a finger across his down his cheek murmuring, "_Plyushevyy mishka__moya._"

Theo gave her a meow and went back to sleep.

~~O~~

In the morning, Natasha found that Bruce hadn't moved from the sofa though he'd turned onto his stomach with one arm hanging off the side. Theo was in the armchair. She went into the kitchen and the cat followed, sitting in front of his dish and meowing. "Good morning, _malenkii_. Are you hungry?"

While the coffee brewed, she filled Theo's bowl, the cat diving in as if he were starved. She also rinsed out his water bowl and refilled it. She washed the cup in the sink and took down a second one then opened the refrigerator and cabinets looking for something to make for breakfast. Bruce would need more substantial nourishment than the microwave dinners in the freezer.

Going to the bedroom for her phone, Natasha put a call out to one of her contacts, a chef by the name of Alexandre Verges, owner of Café François. They had a short and very intense conversation during which Alexandre offered to send over the most exquisite brunch she'd ever tasted, and more than enough to provide a mid-afternoon snack to hold them over to dinner.

She returned to the kitchen just as the coffee maker stopped. Behind her, she heard the soft pad of bare feet stop in the doorway while she poured coffee for both of them. "Morning. Breakfast will be here soon."

Turning with a cup in each hand, she smiled at a sleep disheveled Bruce, his clothes wrinkled and hair sticking up randomly all over his head. He took one of the cups, drinking down half the contents before responding, glancing down when Theo rubbed against his legs. "I heard. Do I have time for a shower?"

"Of course." The look in his eyes spoke of confusion. "Something wrong?"

Huffing, Bruce set the cup on the counter. "No more than usual." Leaned on the counter. "I have very few memories of the time spent as the Other Guy, but today, it's different." Looking at her again, he started to speak, stopped then blurted out, "Did you call me 'teddy bear'?"

Natasha pursed her lips to keep from laughing though it did nothing to hide the twinkle of humor in her eyes. "Out of everything that happened, you chose to remember _that?!_"

"I don't _choose_ to remember anything. It's all jumbled up inside my head. I get flashes of memory in random order. Out of context."

She could see by the look in his eyes that Bruce had hoped that with more control over his hulk-outs he would also recall more of what happened during those times. At the moment, she wasn't certain if she wanted him to remember that he'd said he loved her because then he'd also remember that she said it back. She would again, someday soon. For now, she would continue to show him how she felt.

Bruce went into the bedroom, Theo trotting after him, and a short time later, the shower came on. Immediately, Natasha's mind brought up the image of him lying naked on the ground before she'd covered him with the shirt. Now, she imagined herself undressing, opening the bathroom door, pulling aside the shower curtain, and stepping into the tub with Bruce.

Not given to daydreams or fantasies, it annoyed her that she was going there now. Feeling herself becoming aroused, Natasha called a halt to her wayward thoughts, helped by the buzzing of the intercom.

Alexandre had sent two young men around with the food, and even included fine crystal glasses for the assortment of juices, china place settings, crisply ironed napkins and a tablecloth, and a variety of breakfast and brunch foods. The young men set the table and would've put out the food, but Natasha told them not to bother and sent them away.

Bruce came out a few minutes later, his hair still damp and looking a little more awake. He gave her a kiss and a long hug before sitting down to eat.

~~O~~

Over the next few weeks, Bruce split his time between the Triskelion, the helicarrier, Stark's R&D labs and Calcutta. He and Natasha continued to grow closer. On one occasion, she'd even accompanied him to India.

There were times when he'd find her watching him with the strangest look on her face, as if she was trying to find the solution to a puzzle that continued to elude her. She never hid what she was doing or played it off when he caught her at it. Just smiled or lifted one eyebrow impertinently and went back what she'd been doing, making her move in a game, watching the movie or attempt to engage him in some other activity of a more personal nature.

Another day, Bruce went to the lab early to put the finishing touches on a report for the Counsel so he and Natasha could take two days off. He'd gotten distracted by an idea and lost track of time.

Natasha came into the lab pushing a cart laden with boxes. Without saying a word, she used one of her knives to open the boxes, dumped them out, and started putting Legos together. Bit by bit, his interest was drawn to what she was doing. He put aside work and got down on the floor with her. When they were done, the main lab was filled with a Lego metropolis the likes of which had never been seen. Fury and Hill had come to the window, watched for a while then walked away shaking their heads.

When they were done, Bruce had a brilliant idea. They filmed their city, added narration and music, and posted it to YouTube. Within a few days they had over a million hits. There had been no real reason behind this activity except that it was one that neither of them had participated in as children.

After dismantling their work, they donated the Legos to the local children's hospital. They also spent hours visiting with some of the children too sick to get out of bed, Bruce sharing stories of his childhood as a sickly child. The kids listened raptly, offering commiseration for the loss of his parents when he was four. He hadn't told the truth about his father. That he'd been jealous of the affection between Bruce and his mother, and had killed her in front of him.

A few nights after their visit to the hospital, Natasha insisted on stopping for dinner at the café by the marina. The plaza had been mostly repaired from the day of the crane accident. The boats were all lit up, lights reflecting off the water creating a romantic atmosphere that stayed with them for the rest of the night.

On the drive from the café to his apartment, Bruce made a decision that would change everything.

It was their habit to have a cup of tea and either watch a sports program or play cards or some other game before they went to bed. Only tonight, Bruce didn't want to do any of that. He had enough of children's games, movies and activities. At least for now. Tonight, he wanted to play a grown-up game.

Inside the apartment, Natasha headed for the kitchen, and Bruce took her hand, stopping her from leaving. "Forget the tea. Let's do an experiment."

"What kind of experiment?"

"Evolutionary psychology and behavior ecology. They're mating strategies that refer to a set of behaviors used by individuals to attract, select, and retain mates."

Natasha's hand slowly slid up his arm to his shoulder. The action was repeated on the other side, her hands gently squeezing the muscles. Bruce's hands came to rest on her hips as he leaned in to kiss one corner of her mouth. Her eyes closed and Bruce heard her sigh.

"Tell me-_mmm_-tell me more."

His words were interspersed with gentle nips and kisses along her jaw to her ear. "Research on human mating strategies is guided by the theory of sexual selection." He took her earlobe between his teeth causing her to clutch at him in a vain effort to make him hurry. But Bruce would not be rushed. Time and care were necessary elements or the consequences could be extreme.

"Can I get a demonstration?"

Leaning back so he could look into her eyes, Bruce smiled, telling her with his actions that he loved her. "I'd be happy to, Natasha."

He kissed her, putting all of the passion that had built up inside of him for more than a decade into it.

~~O~~

Tired of waiting and anxious to get started, Natasha moved her hands down to his waist. The way his soft breaths tickled her skin added to the delectable kisses and tantalizing tongue play along her neck, nearly driving her insane.

Bruce broke away, taking her hand, leading her into the bedroom and she went with him eagerly, yearning to feel his lips on hers and his arms holding her close again. The door closed, and a moment later, opened again. Bruce set Theo firmly on the floor and slammed the door on his indignant yowl.

He returned to her, picking up where they left off. Slowly and with great care, they undressed each other. When Natasha stood before Bruce completely naked, she let him look his fill while she did the same. Bruce opening admired her, and she should've felt vulnerable. Instead, she felt cherished and loved.

To show Bruce that she loved him as well, she took his hands, urging him to sit on the side of the bed. Stepping between his knees, she cradled his head against her bare chest. His arms enfolded themselves around her, holding tight as she kissed the top of his head while one hand roamed through the short dark hair at his nape.

Natasha lost her train of thought when Bruce pressed a series of tiny kisses down her stomach. He slid off the bed to kneel in front of her, his intent apparent. She didn't let that go on long though, touching the side of his face, forcing him to look at her.

Obediently, he lay on the bed and Natasha crawled up next to him. To keep his heart rate from rising above the danger level, they had to take this slow. And when she was through, Bruce would know that he was loved.

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **As always, I am very grateful to ladygris for the Beta work.

**Spoiler**: _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_.

Namaste,

Sandy

**Avengers**

**Taking a Chance**

**Chapter 12**

Morning arrived, and though it was a chilly spring morning, Bruce felt warm all over, and not because Natasha's body was curled so sweetly against his back. No, the warmth emanated from the region of his heart, an organ he'd thought incapable of loving anyone after Betty. Natasha had one arm around him and the other under her pillow. Hopefully not around the butt of a gun, but he wouldn't hold his breath. She _was_ the Black Widow, after all, and would always be herself, no matter what. He loved that about her.

Before Bruce could make a decision on whether or not to wake Natasha, the arm around his chest loosened and she rolled over onto her back, the covers slipping down to expose her collarbone and neck. The hand that had been holding onto Bruce as if he belonged to her now lay on her stomach. Her head was turned to the side, red hair fanned out is such a way that she looked like a red-headed version of Medusa, features in repose, a slight flush to her cheeks.

When Bruce suggested they spend time together, not for one moment did he think they'd end up like this. His objective had been to help Natasha get over her fear of the Other Guy, and for both of them to experience some of the things they'd been deprived of due to their unique upbringings. Falling in love with her hadn't even crossed his mind. He just wanted to ease the tension in their working relationship, and in the process, find a friend.

By her actions, Natasha had shown him that she was more than capable of feeling love for another. That despite her statement to Loki that love was for children, she could give and accept love in return, though neither of them had said the actual words yet.

Taking great care not to wake her, Bruce slipped out of bed, tiptoeing around the room as he gathered clean clothes. The moment the door opened, Theo was there expressing his displeasure at being so rudely removed from his favorite sleeping place the night before. To keep him quiet, Bruce gave him a handful of the treats he kept for special occasions.

While the cat was occupied, Bruce carried his clothes down the hall to the second bathroom. There was no razor so shaving would have to wait. He washed his hands and face, using his wet hands to bring some order to his unruly hair.

There was one surefire way to get Natasha out of bed and make it seem like her idea: coffee. He started a pot, dumped a scoop of dry food into Theo's bowl, and readied the cups. There was no need to check for provisions because he already knew the only items in the refrigerator were a couple of beers, a bottle of salad dressing and the two-gallon water bottle with the built in filter.

The pantry was in the same state. A can of asparagus spears, three cans of tuna that were Theo's, and a jar of peanut butter. Smooth, not chunky because Natasha liked smooth and Bruce didn't care either way. If he had completely thought through last night, he'd have stopped at the grocers on the way home. Natasha was the kind of woman who deserved to be served breakfast in bed the morning after an incredible night of making love. He'd take her out, unless she wanted to stay in and continue exploring this new aspect of their relationship. That wouldn't be a good idea though. He was able to control his autonomic responses enough to keep the Other Guy at bay while they'd pleasured each other, but it hadn't been easy. He couldn't let his concentration slip for more than a moment. With practice, he knew it would get easier, but until then, they'd have to limit when and how often they did it. And plan it in advance.

There was a knock on the front door. Theo raced him to it, arriving first. He always thought whoever came to the door came to see him. Without opening it, Bruce asked, "Yeah?"

"Yo! Got a package for MaryAnn Bergman."

"Next door." No thank you or apology, just the young man's footsteps fading and more knocking followed by his neighbor's voice. Bruce started to turn from the door, freezing in place when he heard the sound of a round being chambered into the barrel of a handgun. Putting his hands up, he said, "I surrender," adding a half-grin. Taking in the sight of Natasha holding a gun pointed at him reminded him again of their first meeting in the rundown shack. However, this time, it was so much more pleasurable because now all she wore was a frown. Her hair, down to her shoulders and straight, was all sleep tousled, matching the sheet marks on her skin.

She thumbed the safety on and set the gun on the entertainment center before coming toward him. "Didn't know you were up."

Bruce held out his arms in invitation and a moment later, she was hugging him, her arms a tight band around his waist, and head on his chest. "You were sound asleep and looked so sweet I couldn't bring myself to wake you."

"I _always_ know when you're up, but not today."

"Well, you don't have to worry. I wouldn't open the door without checking first." He would've said more, but the feel of her slim _naked_ body pressed against him stole his ability to think clearly. They had to talk, and to do that she would need to be dressed. Natasha must've been thinking along the same lines because she hastily released him and the last thing he saw before the bedroom door closed was her bare bottom.

When Natasha emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, showered, fully dressed, and hair combed, Bruce was waiting with a cup of coffee which she gratefully accepted. She sipped the hot drink then took his hand and led him to the sofa. "I know it's time for the morning after talk, but can we not and say we did?"

There was so much that Bruce wanted to say to her at this moment he didn't think there were enough words in the English language. However, he would go along with her request. "What I was going to say is where do you want to go for breakfast?"

She turned a wry smile on him. "After that daring rescue, everyone knows you're living in DC. You'll be recognized."

Rubbing a hand over his unshaven chin and jawline, the black hairs shot with gray, he chuckled. "Maybe not. I'll wear a hat and sunglasses, just in case."

~~O~~

Sitting next to Bruce on the patio of their new favorite café sipping tea and watching ships sail in and out of the marina, Natasha marveled at the fact that she loved him. For many years she'd thought herself incapable of loving _anyone_, and yet she did. And the best thing was that he loved her back. Her heart ached with the knowledge, clenching her throat and making her want to do a happy dance.

Slanting her eyes at Bruce, he looked relaxed, one leg resting on the knee of the other while he read from his tablet. He lifted a glass of iced tea to take a sip, and Natasha wanted to just hug him and never let go. Not a practical way to live, she knew, but it sure would be fun.

He set the tablet on the edge of the table and she took the opportunity to hold his hand, using this moment to her full advantage. "Bruce, I…"

"Excuse me. Are you Dr. Banner?"

Natasha stiffened at the intrusion as an unfamiliar woman holding the hand of a small boy approached them. She was young, not yet thirty, and the boy couldn't have been more than five. Before Natasha could say a word, Bruce touched her on the arm, giving her a small head shake. She didn't reach for a weapon, but didn't take her eyes off the stranger either.

Though Bruce had hoped to go unnoticed, he gave the woman and child a smile of welcome. "Yes, I am. Can I help you with something?"

"I'm Carla Newsome and this is my son Brandon. The other day…" She seemed uncertain of what she wanted to say then the words just poured out. "My husband was the one in the crane. He's gettin' outa the hospital in a couple days. The doctors said you saved his life, 'n we wanted to thank you. We been comin' to the plaza every day hopin' you'd show up again."

She leaned down to whisper to the boy and that's when Natasha noticed he held a sheet of construction paper in one small hand. Brandon held out the page, smiling tentatively. "Thanks for savin' my daddy."

Bruce, one of the kindest, gentlest and most thoughtful men she'd ever known, motioned the boy to him, taking the offered gift. "You're welcome. What's this?"

"I drawed it for you. See?"

Bruce turned the picture so Natasha could see. It was a child's rendering of the buildings across the plaza in crayon. Work had been halted for the time being while the builders and owners conferred on how to proceed. The Hulk was clinging to the side of the new structure reaching out a hand to catch a falling man. In the next scene, Hulk was standing with his arms raised, fireworks exploding all around and a cheering crowd gathered around him. Across the top in childish scrawl were the words "Hulk is #1!"

"That's wonderful. Thank you, Brandon. I'll put it on my refrigerator when I get home."

Seeming to be startled that the Hulk had something as mundane as a refrigerator, Brandon returned to his mother's side. They turned and walked away, Bruce watching them with a sad smile. She'd seen the look on his face as he stood beside the cradle in the Calcutta shack.

Bruce would've made a wonderful father, if life and circumstances hadn't gotten in the way. Natasha couldn't help him with the first part, but there was something she could do now to raise his spirits. Taking his hand, she leaned over to press a kiss to his lips. "Thank you for last night."

"You're welcome." His expression of confusion gave her a moment of amusement. "I thought you didn't want to do the morning after talk."

"How does that saying go? It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. Bruce, I…" she looked down then met his eyes with her usual confidence, "…I'm finally ready to take a chance. To love someone unconditionally, without wondering what their hidden agenda might be, or if they're going to try to kill me one day down the road. And I have you to thank for it."

His jaw dropped open then snapped shut as he sat up, his hand tightening on hers almost to the point of pain. "What, uh, what are you saying, Tash?"

Touching his cheek with pad of her thumb, she smiled. "I love you, Bruce Banner."

A sharp intake of breath was followed by a head shake and a relieved grin. "I am _so_ glad you said that."

"Why?"

"Because I love you, too." They kissed again, long and sweet. "It has been so long since I've taken a chance at love, and now I'm glad I did."

Bruce kissed her again, taking his time, making no demands, just giving her his love and she gave it back in equal measure. Somewhere, she heard a click, as if a new lens had slid into place over her old life and through which she could now see a new life…with Bruce.

~~O~~

What they didn't see was a man in a floppy hat wearing dark sunglasses, a reporter who just happened to stop at the same café where two of the Avengers were having lunch. He'd been at his job for many years and seldom had he been caught recording celebrities in public.

Banner and Romanoff's very public kiss would make the perfect accompaniment to his web article on the crane accident. When they got up to leave, he tucked the digital recorder into his pocket, paid his tab and headed for home to upload the file and write up the article, secure in the fact that he'd be the first to share the news.

~~O~~

The day after she returned from the mission to rescue Jasper Sitwell and the other hostages aboard the SHIELD freighter Lemurian Star, Natasha began to feel a hum in the air that hadn't been there before. Something was about to happen though she didn't know what. Just that it wouldn't be good. And if she felt it, others must as well. On the return trip after their mission, Steve had been abnormally quiet, and not just because he was pissed off at her and Fury for not reading him into the entire operation.

She tapped her heel on the floor as the elevator carried her to the Triskelion's research level, willing it to hurry, edgy to the point of needing to pace, yet forcing herself to stand still. The feeling refused to ease up even after several repetitions of her breathing meditations, as if someone had put itching powder in her pants.

The elevator finally stopped and she shot between the doors before they'd completely opened. This particular level was used solely by Bruce and his team. Stark made the occasional visit to stir things up, and Natasha thanked God that she didn't have to explain herself to the billionaire who was on his honeymoon, unreachable on his private island.

Using her high level access, Natasha stuck her head in one lab after the other without success, and more annoyed than she would admit at not finding Bruce. That left only one place he could be. Jogging to the end of the hall, she pushed through the only door that didn't require card access: the break room. There, she found Bruce pouring a cup of coffee. Several of his colleagues were reading or eating, totally ignoring what was going on around them.

Bruce raised the cup to his lips and took a sip, and just for a moment, she was reminded of things that had no place in her thoughts at this point in time. Resolutely pushing wayward emotions from her mind, Natasha called out, "Bruce."

He smiled with affection that Natasha knew to be genuine, and gave her a kiss. "Wasn't expecting you back 'till tomorrow. What…"

Taking hold of his free hand, Natasha drew him down the hall and into his office. "Do you trust me?"

"What…"

Slicing a hand through the air, she cut him off. "_Answer_ the question, Bruce. Do you _trust_ me?"

His eyebrows met over his nose in puzzlement. "Of course."

"With your life?"

"Tash…" She huffed and he nodded emphatically, without a single qualm. "With my life."

Nodding as if she expected nothing less, Natasha swung the duffle bag from her shoulder and handed it to him along with a scrap of paper. "There's a Quinjet on the helipad waiting to take you to Brazil. When you get to Sao Paulo, go to this address. You'll be taken to a village in the Amazon that has little contact with the outside world, and no matter what you hear on the news or by word-of-mouth, _stay_ there. Do not use _any_ form of electronic communication, not even a landline, and don't return to the states until I come for you. Even if it takes _months_. If I can't come for some reason, I'll send Clint."

Natasha heard her voice rising in pitch at the end as her control slipped. Bruce heard it too because he took her hand again, giving it a comforting squeeze. Keeping his voice low and composed, he said, "I've never seen you like this, Tash. What's going on?"

Over the months that she and Bruce had been together, he'd learned to read the subtleties of her expressions. He, on the other hand, was easy to read. Worry and confusion were the two main emotions with frustration coming in a close third. "_Please_, Bruce. I can't explain. Would you please just do this? Do it for _me?_"

He looked at her then down at the floor, and she saw him once again standing beside the baby crib saying _I don't get always what I want_. To her, they were the saddest words he'd ever uttered. Not even the day he told the story of his failed suicide attempt had his voice sounded so sad. When he looked her in the eyes again, he nodded. "What about Theo?"

"He's been taken care of." She weighed her next words before saying them. "One more thing. Don't trust anyone from SHIELD except me, Clint, Fury and Hill."

Bruce opened his mouth to ask, but apparently thought better of it and just nodded. He took off his lab coat, tossed it in a chair, picked up the duffle bag and clasped her hand.

~~O~~

Though his curiosity was at an all-time high, Bruce willingly allowed Natasha to escort him to the helipad. The crew was already on board an idling Quinjet. All they needed was their passenger to take off.

At the foot of the ramp, they faced each other, and Bruce could see that Natasha wanted to speak, but her natural reserve held her back. Leaning close, he whispered, "Isn't there something you're supposed to say about now?"

"Kiss me."

"Close, but I was thinking more along the lines of…"

With a huff of annoyance, Natasha stepped in close, her hand coming up to touch his cheek, and her voice a husky whisper, "Bruce, _shut up_ and kiss me."

Bruce's left arm went around Natasha's waist to pull her close as he leaned down to capture her lips, dialing back the hunger that rushed through him. The hand on his cheek brushed through the short hairs at his nape, and her other hand settled on his waist, the short nails digging into his flesh. His pulse leaped in response. He quickly employed meditation to stop it, and his heart rate returned to normal.

She whispered in his ear, they separated and Natasha stepped back as Bruce walked up the ramp. At the top, his hand poised over the hatch controls, the Quinjet's engines powered up making conversation impossible for the moment. Bruce hit the control, and as the ramp rose, he saw Natasha lips moving, repeating what she'd just said.

Taking a seat on the bench behind the pilot, Bruce set his bag out of the way and crossed his legs. They'd only been in the air for a few minutes when his phone vibrated against his backside. He dug the device out, tapping the screen to bring up the video chat request, and saw Natasha's beautiful face peering at him. Going into the back for privacy, he saw the video waver telling him that she was walking back toward the building. "_Did you hear me?_"

Getting up, he walked to the back of the cargo area for privacy. "I'm not sure. Say it again."

A smile turned up her lips and sparkled in her hazel eyes. "_Lyubb-lyu tebya vsem sertsem, vsey dushoyu__, Dr. Banner._"

Bruce returned her smile, telling her in halting Russian, "_Ya tozhe tyebya__lyublyu_, Agent Romanoff."

Her expression changed to one of mild alarm, a hand going to her headset as she listened to something he couldn't hear. "Gotta go. Stay safe, _plyushevyy mishka__moya_."

"And you, Natasha. I'll be waiting for you." The screen went black, and Bruce, torn between worry and amusement at the nickname she'd give him, My Teddy Bear, he turned off the phone, her mandate regarding electronic communication still ringing in his head. With a glance at the cockpit, and as casually as he could, Bruce wandered back to the facilities. Taking the battery out, he dropped it into the commode and flushed. The rest of the phone he broke apart and tucked the pieces into the side pocket of his duffle bag. In spite of the baffling events, her words of love would definitely be one of the better memories he took with him to Brazil.

Almost nine hours later, he arrived in Sao Paulo. Eschewing the SHIELD vehicle waiting for him, Bruce walked into the city and caught a cab, changing frequently to avoid being followed to the address Natasha had given him.

The next day, he was taken into the jungle via mule pack. Thirty-six hours out, he took the shattered pieces of his phone and dropped them every couple of miles. As he and his companions crossed a river whose name he didn't know, he broke the SIM card into several pieces and dropped them into the silty bottom taking with them his last physical link to the woman he loved.

~~O~~

Fury and Clint watched Banner and Natasha's tender good-bye from the helipad's roof entrance. The Quinjet lifted off, turned and headed south with Banner inside, the crew having been handpicked by Fury himself. Natasha stared at the sky where the airship had disappeared then took out her phone to make a call.

Even from this distance, Clint could tell she was talking to Banner. It was in the relaxed set of her shoulders and the way she tilted her chin down, red hair falling forward to hide her face from view.

Hands clasped behind his back, Fury said, "Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."

"Khalil Gibran," Clint replied automatically. "They look happy."

"And so they should be." Fury paused for several heartbeats. "This was one of our most challenging missions to date, Agent Barton. To give a man back his heart."

"By giving Banner his, we gave Natasha hers back as well."

Fury glanced at Clint then back to Natasha. She ended her call and just held the phone, as if it contained the secret to her happiness, and in a way it did. It was how she connected to Banner when they were separated, the man she'd fallen in love with, proving that love _wasn't_ just for children after all.

"Why do you think I put them together?" The director's admission didn't surprise Clint in the least. Under the gruff exterior, Fury was a closet romantic. Natasha walked toward them with a wistful smile on her face. Making an "after you" gesture, Fury fell into step behind Natasha, his booted feet ringing on the metal steps. "Mission briefing in ten minutes, Agent Romanoff."

The duo's voices faded out when they turned a corner. Though he was curious to know why Rogers wasn't being read into this phase of the mission he would be going on with Natasha, Clint had a mission of his own to get to. He climbed aboard a helijet and ran down the check list. "Tango-niner-seven ready to depart."

"_Negative, Tango-niner-seven. You've got a passenger coming aboard,_" the voice in his headset told him with just a touch of humor.

Taken aback, Clint's hands hovered over the controls. "On whose orders?"

"_The director's. He's assigned you as SO to Agent Chris Yates_."

"I don't have time to babysit some SHIELD probie. Tell Fury…" Clint searched for a way to continue that wouldn't get him a reprimand. Before he came up with something suitable, the passenger compartment door opened and closed again. Clint was about to tell the guy to **** off when a woman with light brown hair stuck her head into the cockpit.

"Morning. Agent Christina Yates." She climbed into the co-pilot's seat, strapped in, put on a headset and extended her hand in greeting. "Thanks for taking me on, Agent Barton."

"But…" Yates had girl-next-door looks with the accent to match. Clint guessed Kansas or Oklahoma.

Yates adjusted her headset while giving Clint a smile filled with straight white teeth. "Commander Hill says you're one of the best agents SHIELD has ever produced. I'm really looking forward to learning from you, sir."

She looked at him expectantly, and Clint finally found his voice. "Listen, Yates, this isn't going to work out for me, for _us_." The woman's face crumpled, her smile suddenly gone as she realized he was about to kick her to the curb. Crap! He just couldn't do it. "There're a couple of rules. Don't call me sir. On the clock, Barton or Agent Barton will do. Off duty, it's Clint."

"What's the second rule?"

"Probie buys the first round after a mission."

"Of course, Agent Barton." The smile was back, as was the sparkle in her green eyes. "Is there a third rule?"

The whine of the engines rose in pitch. "Yeah. Dozens, actually. You'll learn them as we go. So what do you go by? Chris? Tina? Chrissy?"

"All of the above and more. I have a large family. Take your pick."

Letting out a long sigh, Clint requested and received permission to take off. "Buckle up, Probie. It's a long ride to Russia."

~~O~~

At the same time Bruce was performing an emergency appendectomy in a small village outside of Sao Paulo where they stopped for the night, Natasha, Steve, and Hill were watching surgeons work frantically to save the life of Nick Fury. His heart stopped, and Natasha barely heard herself saying, "Don't do this to me, Nick" over the sound of the defibrillator and the doctors calling out to each other.

They did the best they could, but Fury's injuries had been too severe. A few minutes later they surgeon announced the time of death. Unable to fathom that her friend was gone, Natasha accepted Steve's offer of comfort glad that Bruce and Clint were out of the country before it all hit the fan, which would be happening any moment now. And with the man she loved and her partner well away from the fray, they might all survive the coming cataclysm. It helped that she had two of the people she trusted most in this world by her side, Steve and Maria Hill.

Asking Steve to wait, Natasha stepped into the ladies room where she once again sent an urgent message to Tony Stark. She had no contact information for Thor aside from Jane Foster, and she was currently doing research at a remote observatory so it was unlikely that the demi-god was even on Earth.

Natasha used the facilities, washed and dried her hands, and returned to the hall where the only other person in sight was the vendor filling the machine. He closed the door, locked it and pushed the cart into the freight elevator.

Huffing, she crossed her arms and stared at her reflection in the glass of the vending machine. Something caught her eye, and one side of her mouth turned up in a smirk. Reaching into her pocket, Natasha brought out a handful of change, dropped it into the slot and made her choice.

**TBC**

It's a difficult case…to give a man back his heart.

~ Michael, from the movie _Michael_, 1996

**A/N: **This story continues with _Marvel's Agents of SHIELD_, _Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Guardians of the Galaxy _and_ Avengers 2: The Age of Ultron._

I was also informed by my Beta that an unresolved cliffhanger isn't permitted, so a sequel is in the works. Stay tuned.

Sandy


End file.
